


Mythologies

by vague_enthusiast



Category: Harry - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, I've never done this before, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Slow Burn, So sorry if it's real rough, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vague_enthusiast/pseuds/vague_enthusiast
Summary: Begins in the Marauders' sixth year, after a frosty summer between Remus and Sirius. The Marauders must regain each others' trust and bond together, because the real world is waiting and growing darker by the day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to anyone who might actually read this! I've never written a fanfic before, but I thought I'd give it a go. If I get any bits of the timeline wrong or make any glaring mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> Also I really don't know where this thing is going, but I don't plan to break any (non-fictional) hearts... So if we make it past the Marauders' graduation, I'll likely diverge from canon.

Remus shivered. Why his body temperature insisted upon syncing itself to the phases of the moon, he couldn’t say; it just seemed to be one of the many ways his “furry little problem” sank its claws into his life. He pushed his cart out of the stream of hurrying passengers and leaned forward to fetch a third jumper from his trunk, lifting his foot for better leverage.

His fingertips had just made contact with red wool when a passer-by bashed his shoulder hard enough to tip him spluttering into his cart, legs dangling uselessly off the ground. The cart began to tilt dangerously before a long fingered hand righted it.

Remus spotted a familiar emblazoned ring on the forefinger and growled, “Sirius Black, if you do not help me up I shall--”

His words stuck in his throat as his collar tightened around it-- Sirius was pulling him out by the back of his shirt? Surely even after their icy summer he could be a little gentler. Perhaps a tug round the waist, or under the arms at the very least.

But as he found himself upright and able to breath once more, he found himself staring at entirely the wrong Black. Eyes nearly identical to Sirius’ regarded him with nothing of their usual warmth, and Remus’s ensuing shiver was brought on by more than just his chilled bones.

“Ah--” Remus wasn’t sure what to say. “Th… thank you?”

He received nothing but a nod in return. Remus watched as Regulus strode stiffly away to join the rest of his severe-looking family, his gait nothing like his brother’s enthusiastic bounce.

Remus sighed. Truth be told, he had missed Sirius this summer. Missed their usual correspondences by owl, and the week or two at the end of July when the Marauders found ways to sneak away from their respective homes for camping adventures and beach days.

But Remus, who was usually so forgiving, was not letting up on his friend this time. Not after what Padf-- no, _Sirius_ , had done. Remus was rather proud of himself, actually, that he had managed to ignore Sirius’ letters all summer. In fact, he had decided to forgive the other boy today as a reward for himself.

He grinned, and began to push his cart once more. He really was looking forward to seeing his friends. James and Peter had made the effort to keep in contact with him, even though the full moon (and his row with Sirius) had kept him from joining them for their summer adventures. Remus could tell that they were uncomfortable;  it seemed from their letters as though they were hiding something, especially near the end of the summer, but Remus had written it off as awkwardness due to the situation Sirius had created. Everything would be fine once he forgave Sirius. At least, that was what he hoped.

Remus didn’t see the others on the platform, so he made his way onto the train and toward their usual compartment. He supposed he was running a little late; his mother had been more tearful than usual in saying goodbye at the house this year. He knew she had worried over the holidays about his isolation from his friends, despite his attempts to convince her that he was fine.

“Remus!” The call came from behind him, and he turned in the cramped hallway to face its source.

“Ah, Lily!” He grinned at the tall, red-haired girl as she stalked toward him, mouth set into what he had come to recognize as her James-Potter-Is-A-Flying-Arsehole frown. “What has he done this time?”

Lily blinked. “How did you know?”

“Other than the fact that it’s become tradition for him to make a clumsy pass at you on the train every year? It’s your face, Lily. You look about ready to throw someone.”

She sighed, and made an effort to relax her features. “Well, that’s not what it is this time. He’s having a row with Sirius, loudly enough to wake the Giant Squid from _here_.”

“Ah.”

She pursed her lips. “Can you…?”

“I’ll sort them out, Lily.” He smiled again, softer this time. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Remus.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, before lunging after a third-year who thought he could get past her with a fistful of dung-bombs. The train’s whistle warned students to find their seats, and the last few stragglers darted giggling into their compartments under his prefectorial gaze.

Chuckling, Remus approached his own compartment. There was yelling, and Lily was right-- James was bloody loud.

“You have got to tell him, Sirius!”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Prongs, he does not need to know!”

Remus could practically hear James reddening. “Why the bloody hell not? Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it’s been trying to keep it from him?”

“Well, my apologies if my escape from an abusive household has been _uncomfortable_ for you.”

Remus froze, hands tightening on the handles of his trunk as he replayed Sirius’s words in his head. _Escape?_ _Abusive?_

James's voice softened. “He’s going to find out, Sirius. Don’t you think it would be better for you to tell him, than for him to hear it whispered in the hallways by some gossiping Slytherin? Don’t you think it’ll hurt him that he’s the last to find out?”

Something flooded Remus’s chest, something colder than the ice that stiffened his joints at every full moon. There was no name for this, Remus thought as the train blew its departure. This feeling could not be pinned down in one word.

Sirius spoke more quietly now, but Remus was close enough that he could hear the shake in his voice. “I’ve already hurt him enough, James. He doesn’t need to shoulder my pain as well.”

Guilt? Yes. Hurt? Certainly. But this feeling was more than the combination of the two. Remus’ breathing had stopped, and he could feel the beginnings of panic just behind his eyes. He leaned on the wall beside the compartment which contained his friends. He was barely a meter away from them, but he felt as far away as the moon. He slid down the wall, trying to calm his frenzied thoughts.

So, Sirius had run away from his home. After some form of abuse. And Remus had been ignoring Sirius, and nobody had told him not to. “Ahhh,” he wheezed. _I am the worst friend in existence._

His breath came back to him in ragged gasps, and his hearing, which he hadn’t realized he’d been missing, flooded back to his ears.

“What was that?” Peter asked. “It sounded like Moony!”

Tears stung his eyes as his lungs grabbed greedily at the air, forcing it through his system far too quickly for any oxygen to reach his blood. His chest was so cold, and his heart was so fast, and he was a horrible friend, a horrible friend, a horrible friend.

The door to the marauders’ compartment slammed open, and he could see Sirius’s shadow thrust itself into the hallway.

“Remus!” Rip-jeaned knees dropped to the carpet beside him, and hands hovered worriedly over Remus’s shoulders. “Remus, look at me!” When Remus didn’t look up, Sirius grasped the other boy’s shoulders and shook him gently.

Remus peered hazily up at Sirius, trying to focus on his grey irises.

“What’s going on?” James had appeared at Sirius’s side.

“He’s having a panic attack, I think.” Sirius was helping Remus to his feet now, one arm around his waist while the other pulled Remus’s arm over his shoulders. _Now this is how it’s done, Regulus_ , Remus thought with a hint of hysteria. He thought he might have muttered it too, because Sirius’s voice was worried as he murmured comfortingly in his ear, “Let’s get you inside.”

Peter leapt from his seat to make room for Remus, hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

Sirius ignored him. “Down you go now.” Sirius eased him onto the squashy bench thing-- Remus couldn’t be bothered to remember its name-- and kneeled in front of him. The edges of Remus’s vision were fading, and he wondered if he would ever be able to draw a full breath again.

Warm hands gripped the sides of his knees. Still sucking in useless breaths, Remus looked back up into Sirius’s face.

“Remus, listen. You’re having a panic attack.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Remus tried to say, although all that came out was a strangled whine.

“You’ve got to breath properly, Moony. Just do as I do, ok?” Sirius pressed Remus’s shaking hand to his chest, holding it there with both of his. He proceeded to breath exaggeratedly in and out, and Remus stared desperately into his face, as though searching for calm in the grey irises and worried brow. James sat beside the panicking boy, and began rubbing circles into his back as his breath began to slow.

After a few minutes of this, Remus had returned to himself and was leaning with his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed as he savoured the return of oxygen to his lungs. Sirius eyed his exposed neck for a moment, before releasing the other boy’s hand. Remus opened one eye and peered down at him. Sirius was sitting back on his heels, a worried expression on his face as he met James’ eyes.

“Er, Moony?” James spoke from beside him.

Remus grunted.

“Could I possibly have my hand back?” He wiggled his fingers where his hand was pinned between exhausted boy and seat.

Remus rolled his head against the compartment wall in a rough “no, fuck you” fashion.

He could see James staring helplessly at Sirius, and quite honestly, all this non-verbal communication was getting on his nerves. He took a few more breaths, then sat up, resting his elbows on his knees for support.

“You alright, mate?” Squeaked Peter, who had squashed himself into the corner as though to make more space for the others.

Remus nodded, trying not to show how shaken he was. “This is not how I wanted to say hello,” he muttered. “Not after the summer I think we’ve all had.” He fixed his gaze on Sirius at this, and the dark-haired boy blanched.

“Ah,” said Sirius. “You… er… I take it you heard?”

“Hard not to,” coughed Remus. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance. “Not your fault my family’s a lot of arrogant toe-rags.”

Remus frowned. “That’s not what I meant, although I’m sorry about that too.”

“What, then? Are you apologizing for a panic attack? Because honestly, Moony, it’s a marvel we’ve never given you one before.” Sirius’s head was tilted to one side, sincerity in every feature of his face, and it was all Remus could do not to burst into tears. One sneaky little bugger made it onto his cheek though, and he hid his face in his hands before anyone could see.

“Mate, mate, what’s going on with you?” Prongs clapped a hand to his shoulder. “C’mon, I know you’ve got that whole quiet-and-literary thing going but you’re usually a little more articulate than this.”

“Sirius, I--” His voice was muffled behind his hands. “I ignored you through the hardest time of your life.”

Sirius’s breath hitched at the pain in the other boy’s words, but he tried again for blase. “Nah, Moony, the hardest time of my life was trying to get that massive wad of Droobles Best out of my hair.”

“Paaads,” moaned Remus.

“Moooony,” chuckled Sirius. “Moony, there is nothing to forgive.”

Remus peeked from behind his fingers, disbelief written across his face. “But I--”

“You punished me much less than I deserved.” Sirius’s voice was firm.

“Yeah, honestly Remus.” James nudged him in the ribs.  “We were about ready to kick the shite out of him after The Shitshow.”

“It’s true, only his feeble blubbering got him out of that one,” quipped Peter.

Sirius stood regally, but there was an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Blacks do not blubber, we weep.” He took his seat beside Peter, raising an eyebrow at the now-cowering boy.

“You… you cried?” Remus stared at Sirius. He couldn’t imagine the tall, mischievous boy in front of him _crying_ , much less because of him.

Sirius’s blush deepened, and he shrugged again, staring past Peter at the passing landscape. “Could’ve gotten you killed. Or worse, expelled.”

The compartment was silent.

Remus was still ogling at Sirius, who had never shown a hint of genuine remorse in his life. It was truly disturbing. Remus cleared his throat. “Well,” he said weakly. “Could’ve gone worse. And, anyway, I’ve decided to forgive you.”

Sirius’s head jerked toward him, and he sat up like a dog who’s seen a squirrel. “You have?”

Remus could feel his cheeks reddening. He hadn’t expected Sirius to take it like this-- to care so much. “Well… yeah. Couldn’t stay mad at you forever, Pads.”

A grin split the other boy’s face, and Remus heard James snort from beside him.

Sirius eyed him. “Something to say, Prongs?”

James leaned back in a stretch, hands behind his head. “Just, you know, _I told you so_.”

“Shove off.”

James leaned over to Remus, shielding his mouth conspiratorially. “Kept moaning that you’d never speak to him again. Acted like it was the worst breakup of his life-- not that he’s ever had one of those, mind.”

Only Sirius’s kick to the shins kept James from noticing the flush that was spreading across Remus’ face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps the Marauders can get back to normal, with the help of chocolate trifle and enchanted socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> I was thinking I'd post a new chapter every week, but since they're so short and it's Christmas break for me, I figured I'd just do them every three days for now. Once classes start back up I'll probably update once a week, though.
> 
> Also: I'd love to know if you guys like these short chapters or if you would prefer longer ones (which might mean they come a little further apart, we'll see).

By the time pudding came round, Sirius felt that things between himself and Remus had returned to their regular rhythm.

He’d been sure, after it had happened, that he would never speak to Remus again.

It had been impulsive, his decision to tip Snivellus off on how to get to the Shrieking Shack. He’d thought, “hey, let’s scare the shit out of this greasy little twat”, and, “this’ll teach him to follow us”. Not, “what if he kills my best friend”, or “what if my best friend kills him.”

But after he had told James what he had done, and had not received the expected high-five and/or clap on the back, he had realized his mistake. He had sprinted after James, who had galloped off to save Snivellus, and collided with the fleeing Slytherin in the passage to the Shack. The slimy git had stopped just long enough to sneer and spit, “I knew it, and soon the whole school will too.” And then he had flapped bat-like out of sight, and Sirius had dropped to his knees as panic gripped him like an old friend.

James had found him like that, not long after, and instead of shouting or punching Sirius like he should have, his friend had knelt and put a hand on his shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“He’s fine, Sirius.”

Sirius had just shaken his head.

“We’ll have to tell him, though. Warn him, because there will be backlash.”

At that the panic had nearly stolen his breath once more, but Sirius had brushed it aside, standing with the help of James. He had felt a weight on his shoulder and realized that Peter was there in rat form, just  _ there _ for him. And he had realized how little he deserved his friends.

“I’ll do it,” he had said, voice gruff with tears and ragged breath. “I’ll tell him.”

Now, he watched as the ragged boy scooped chocolate trifle into his mouth, and smiled when their eyes met. Remus stuck a whipped-cream tongue out at him, and Sirius once again felt gratitude well up in his chest. Somehow, after what he had done, his friends were still with him.

But then Remus’s eyes flicked to a point over his shoulder, and a force hit him in the back. His stomach collided painfully with the edge of the table, elbows sliding on the wooden surface as he jolted forward.

“Oh, sorry Black.” The voice was loaded with mock-sincerity, and he turned, wincing, to face his assailant. It was Snivellus himself, flanked by Mulciber and Avery. “Didn’t see you there-- the  _ moon _ is sure bright this evening.” And he shielded his eyes from the nearly-full moon which shone from the ceiling of the great hall, delivering a wink to Remus, who simply raised an eyebrow.

Sirius pretended to blink as though blinded by the oily worm of a person in front of him. “Ah, not as bright as this glare, though-- is this some sort of condition, Snivellus? Or is it a family tradition, not to wash one’s hair?”

The smirk fell from Snivellus’s lips and the two beast-like boys behind him shifted, as though waiting to hear his reply. To Sirius’s distress, he leaned closer and looked like he was about to mutter in his ear, when a stern voice sounded from behind him.

“Ah, I take it you three have decided to transfer into Gryffindor?”

The three Slytherins whipped around to face the severe-looking witch who had come up behind them. 

“No, professor,” sneered Snivellus. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A muscle under McGonagall's eye twitched. “Then why, pray tell, are you at the Gryffindor table?”

Sirius grinned as Snivellus squirmed. “Just… saying hello to some old friends.”

“I see. Well, respects have been paid, and it is nearly time to head up to your rooms. Or down, in your case.”

“Yes, professor.” Muttered Snivellus, echoed dumbly by his cohort. And the three of them slunk away.

McGonagall nodded curtly and walked away as the Marauders whooped after her, James miming the motion of a whip as Sirius provided the accompanying “whpshhhh”.

“She’s right, actually. I should start rounding up the first years.” Remus stood as the puddings disappeared from the table, and Sirius followed suit, wincing again as pain shot through his stomach where it had collided with the table.

“Alright, Pads?” Remus was watching him with concern.

Sirius nodded, hastily. “Bit bruised, is all.”

“Your elbow is bleeding,” said Remus. “C’mere.”

Sirius swallowed hard as his friend took the affected arm into cool hands. The werewolf’s curly head was inches from Sirius’s face, and he tried not to shiver under Remus’s deft touch.

Remus muttered a quick  _ episkey _ . “Better?” He asked, looking back up at Sirius.

“Much,” he grunted. “Thanks.” He tried not to look disappointed as Remus dropped his arm and walked away to guide the first years to the tower.

***

After Remus had performed his prefectorial duties, he found his friends unpacking their trunks in the room they had shared since first year.

Well, unpacking was the wrong word-- Peter was curled in a nest of his clothing and James had bewitched a wad of socks to fling itself against Sirius’s arse where he lay face down in Remus’s bed.

“C’mon, Pads, it’s not your fault,” James was saying.

Sirius only moaned.

Remus stepped into the room. “What’s not his fault?”

James turned to him, grimacing. “Very few things.”

Remus rolled his eyes and went over to his trunk, prying it open and removing his tidy stacks of clothing. “Well, why is our resident Black a lump on my bed?”

“He claims it smells better than his.”

“I would hope it does, seeing as I shower more than twice a week and don’t bring stolen pastries to bed.”

“Shmmfm,” said Sirius.

“Sorry, what was that? I’m afraid I don’t speak Troll.” Remus moved to the chest of drawers and began placing his stacks of clothing neatly within.

Sirius rolled dramatically onto his back, one arm flung across his eyes. “I said, it smells like cinnamon.”

“Ahhhh, yes; it is true, that is not your fault. No need to beat yourself up over it.” Remus rolled his eyes.

James, snorting, decided at last to enlighten his friend before Remus got any more sarcastic. “He’s upset because we saw Regulus getting cornered by Mulciber and Avery.”

“Cornered how?” Remus darted a glance at Sirius. His brother meant a lot to him, even if he was a conniving little shit.

“A bit of shoving, nothing crazy.”

“And this would be Sirius’s fault because…?”

Sirius sat up, glaring around at them as James’ wad of socks went whizzing past his left ear. “I left. I disgraced him. I tainted the family name, and he’s the one that’s going to pay.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You tainted the family name the moment you were sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius.”

“But people are going to start asking where his loyalties lie-- with me, or with our parents.”

“Well, his answer to that is obvious,” James muttered darkly. Then, in answer to Remus’s questioning look, he whispered, “When they started shoving him around, Regulus made some rather rude hand gestures in our direction and said something along the lines of, ‘he’s not my family’.”

“Sorry git,” piped Peter.

But Remus was looking at Sirius, who was looking at the ceiling. He’d known that Sirius had had a hard time at home due to his Gryffindor affiliations; some shouting matches, he had assumed, and perhaps some nights without supper. But things must have gotten really horrible for Sirius to abandon his little brother. And if Remus knew anything at all about the other boy, it was that he would blame every single one of Regulus’s hardships from here on out on himself.

“Anyway. If you don’t unpack tonight, mate, you know you’ll never get round to it,” James’s voice was gentle as he looked at his friend, and Remus couldn’t help but feel a little left out as they shared one of their wordless conversations. Sighing heavily, Sirius rose from Remus’s bed.

“I’m done here, Pads. Want some help?” Remus smiled at the dark-haired boy. He still felt bad about freezing Sirius out over the holiday, and he looked a little lost amidst the piles of his things.

“Yeah, thanks Moony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you guys think, so please leave a kudos or a comment if you have time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius share some secrets and a bed.

Somehow, despite the fact that his bed was now devoid of his various belongings, Sirius had ended up asleep in Remus’s bed. Remus, who had finished unpacking Sirius’s things for him, stared around at his three snoring friends.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. They hadn’t even changed out of their robes.

He stripped quickly, changing into his striped pajama bottoms and T-shirt. Then, after only a moment’s hesitation, he clambered into his bed beside Sirius.

He sighed happily as he sank into the warmth the other boy had generated under the covers, pulling the blankets up to his chin and reaching over Sirius to release the privacy curtains. The moonlight would get in his eyes later if he didn’t, of course. Remus let the warmth and quiet seep into him, breathing deeply and realizing for the first time how miserable he had been over the summer. He vowed never to go that long without seeing his friends, and never to go without speaking to Sirius again. He glanced over at his bed mate, and found grey eyes observing him from only inches away.

“Oh,” Remus squeaked.

“Hi.” Sirius’s voice was rumbly with sleep. “You alright?” He was watching Remus’s face, and the werewolf was forced to wonder what expression he had been making to warrant such a concerned look.

Remus nodded. “Missed you, is all.”

Sirius smiled. “I missed you too, Moons.”

They regarded each other for a moment, then Remus rolled on his side to face Sirius. The other boy’s dark hair was spread across Remus’s pillow, and even in the darkness his grey eyes shone.

“Sirius,” Remus started. But he wasn’t sure how to ask. Sirius watched him struggle with words for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“You want to know what made me run away.”

Remus bit his lip, nodding. Sirius breathed slowly for a few moments. Then he reached through the curtains to Remus’s bedside table and cast a quick muffliato with the other boy’s wand.

“Right. Well, for starters, James has been asking me that all summer.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t tell him. Well, he knows why, but not _why_.”

“You’ll have to explain.”

Sirius rolled to face him, and suddenly Remus felt the intimacy of their position. Their faces were so close together that Remus could feel his friend’s breath on his cheek, smell the scents of leather and mint stained into his skin.

Sirius began. “It’s never been easy at Grimmauld Place. Lots of expectations, and after the sorting--” he waved his hand vaguely-- “The folks were not happy with me. Good ol’ Walburga called me a disgrace, a disappointment, and all manner of other d-words. But I could handle it. I figured, I’m in Gryffindor, so I gotta be brave.”

Sirius had closed his eyes as he spoke, leaving Remus free to examine his face. The corners of his mouth were turned down in a seriousness (ha-ha) that rarely graced his features. There was a new line between the dark arches of his eyebrows, as well.

“So, I let them shout at me, insult me, throw the occasional curse at me.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It was never anything I couldn’t handle. Nothing ever did lasting damage-- at least, none that showed.

Well, this summer, I crossed a line. I had thought I was safe, figured that if there was a line, I’d have crossed it by now, but… nope. I pissed Walburga off one too many times. She… well,”

Sirius swallowed, and once again Remus was filled with cold, liquid guilt.

“It wasn’t the usual jelly-legs or leg-locker. She went full Cruciatus on me.”

Remus could feel the prickling behind his eyes, but he made an effort not to cry. Sirius would not want his pity or his pain.

“Cruciatus, and my dad-- well, he’s a more physical man.” Sirius lifted his shirt to reveal pale skin marred by yellowing bruises, likely made by the toe of a rather pointed shoe.

Remus let out a soft, “Ah.” _No wonder he’d been wincing after Snape’s shove_. Remus reached out impulsively and put his fingertips to the damaged flesh, and Sirius’s eyes flashed open.

Remus’s expression was tense as he brushed his cold fingers against Sirius’s skin, and when he looked up, his eyes shone with the tears he had tried so hard to conceal. “Pads,” he choked out. What if in one of his letters, Sirius had reached out for help? And Remus had not even bothered to open it?

Sirius grabbed his hand, squeezing it as he concealed the bruises once more. “Remus, nothing about this is your fault.”

Remus only shook his head. After a few moments, he asked, “What did you do? To piss them off so much?”

Sirius let out a breathy chuckle and rolled onto his back. “A tale for another time, Moony.”

The truth was, Sirius wasn’t ready to tell his friends. He’d probably said too much, telling Remus about his mother’s Cruciatus curse-- not even James had heard about that. He wasn’t sure how they would react to why she had done it, and they had Moony’s furry little problem to deal with the following night anyway. No, his friends had enough on their plates.

***

Sirius awoke the next morning before the sun had a chance to ooze its way over the windowsill and through the slit in the curtains. He felt a pressure on his side and glanced down, tensing slightly as he remembered that he was not in his own bed.

Remus, who’s pillow had been bogarted by Sirius himself, had chosen the revenge of using Sirius’s chest as a substitute. The boy’s soft honey-brown curls were inches from Sirius’s nose, and he could smell the clean of Remus’s shampoo-- and something darker, muskier, like a forest floor after rain.

Remus shivered slightly, clutching the fabric of Sirius’s shirt tighter in his hand. He was pressed along the side of Sirius’s body, as though clinging to the taller boy for warmth. Sirius realized that sometime in the night, his arm had wrapped itself around Remus’s slender waist.

With his free arm he reached over the still-shivering boy, pulling the blankets up so they covered Remus up to his nose. Remus let out a little moan and twitched, and Sirius wondered if he was dreaming of The Wolf. Tentatively, he reached up and brushed the curls back from Remus’s face, running his thumb down the smooth and freckled skin of his unscarred cheek. The shivering subsided, and Remus let out a gentle sigh. Sirius, momentarily overcome by the sweetness of the sound, was forced to look away.

He could hear James tossing in his bed, likely dreaming of the Quidditch tryouts he would be hosting in a week. Sirius grinned-- they had a real chance at the cup this year. It was Magnus McGonagall’s last year as seeker, and Sirius had practiced his keeping with James all summer. He had a real knack for catching things.

Remus shifted against him, drawing his knee up so that his leg was draped over Sirius’s thigh. Sirius closed his eyes, and wondered if he could possibly skip his classes for the rest of the year in order to stay right here. That’s right, sod quidditch.

“Nghhh,” groaned Remus, and Sirius could feel the other boy’s eyelashes flutter against his chest as the werewolf awoke. Unthinking, he rubbed his hand on Remus’s back, and the other boy froze. _Oops_.

Slowly, Remus lifted his head, blinking blearily at his friend. “Huh?” He asked intelligently.

“Morning, mate,” said Sirius, cringing inwardly at the sing-song awkwardness in his own voice.

“Uh huh…” Remus’s head dropped back down to Sirius’s chest, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Ow.”

“What’s wrong?” Sirius tried to peer at the boy’s face, but the angle was wrong and his hair had fallen back into his eyes.

Remus shook his head against Sirius’s chest. “Full moon tonight,” he murmured.

“Ah. Yeah.” Sirius knew that Remus’s body fought itself on the day of the full moon, right up to the moment it transformed. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel, for your own blood and bones to rebel against you. It couldn’t be pleasant. “Anything I can do?”

Remus was silent for a moment, then sleepily muttered, “The rubbing of my back was nice.”

Sirius grinned and resisted the urge to press a kiss to Remus’s head. Slowly, he allowed his hand to press a soothing trail into Moony’s back, trying to ignore how sharply the boy’s spine and shoulder blades stood out. Remus wiggled, sighed, and fell back asleep.

Sirius was still rubbing his back when James ripped the curtains open later that morning.

“Ah! Young love.” James was lit from behind by blinding sunlight, looking for all the world like a great lumbering ent with his wild hair and long limbs. “You’ll miss breakfast if you don’t move quick, you two.”

Peter peered over James’ shoulder, blinked beadily, and muttered something that sounded like, “Typical dogs.”

Sirius waved a sleepy middle finger, and Remus buried his face in Sirius’s chest, muttering something that sounded like, “Whyyy?” James chucked his pillow at the both of them before bounding off with Peter, presumably to stuff his face with bacon and fried eggs.

Sirius sighed, then gently shoved Remus off of himself and sat up. “He’s right, Moony. You’ll need some food in you for tonight.” He excused himself rather quickly to the loo, leaving Remus to blink resentfully into the empty, sunlit room.

He had slept as well as he could have, considering what tonight held for him. Sirius’s warmth seemed to have eased some of the aches that usually riddled his body, and the other boy had made an alarmingly comfortable pillow for someone with so little body fat. Tentatively, Remus sat up, wincing at the creak in his bones. He felt like an old and rather ugly house.

He got dressed, carefully avoiding the mirror, and passed a still-dishevelled Sirius on his way to the bathroom. “I set your clothes out, Pads.”

Sirius grinned over his shoulder at the smaller boy. “Thanks, mother.”

Remus lifted an eyebrow.

Sirius seemed to realize the implication. “Not that you’re-- blimey, no, you’re more like James’s mother than anything…”

Remus snorted and entered the bathroom, leaving Sirius to gesticulate and stutter to himself in the hallway. He brushed his teeth and gave himself a perfunctory once-over in the mirror. He was still rather scrawny, despite the fact that all his friends besides Peter seemed to have shot up over the summer. His hair, he he thought, looked decidedly gray at the edges in the unflattering light of the bathroom, and he wondered if he was prematurely aging. The scars that cut across his nose and down his cheekbone certainly suggested a great deal more living than he felt he had done as of yet. Remus sighed, straightened the folds of his cloak, and set down for breakfast.

“Weren’t gonna wait for me?” Asked Sirius as he bounded to Remus’s side.

Remus shrugged. “Figured you’d catch up. I’m not exactly light on my toes this morning.”

“Need someone to lean on?” Sirius offered, holding out his arm to the boy who was moving tenderly down the stairs.

“Nah, I got this.” Remus’s eyes were focused straight ahead at the doors of the Great Hall, and Sirius knew better than to push. Remus hated to rely on his friends for anything; he’d rather be the one helping. _Although his sleeping self had no problems relying on me for body heat last night._ Sirius felt blood rush to his cheeks at the memory, and scrubbed his hand down his face as he held the door for Remus.

“Thanks, Pads.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-ho! Thanks for reading, everyone. I'd love to know what you think, so leave a comment or a kudos if you have time! It's really encouraging to hear from you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders maraud-- a full moon is had, Quidditch is played, and a prank is underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! This chapter is a little longer, a present from me to you :* 
> 
> Just a warning: there are minor descriptions of violence/wounds in this one, so viewer discretion is advised.

The day of the full moon passed slowly for the Marauders, as though Time were a torturer and their friend the victim. Remus’s complexion grew progressively grayer with each passing hour, and not even his trusty eyebrow could be asked to raise at Snape’s pointed jeers.

After dinner, the four friends filed up to their dormitories along with the other students and began their full moon routine. Remus slipped out of the common room to be escorted to the Shack, and the remaining three proclaimed themselves exhausted-- a point punctuated by exaggerated yawns and stretches. They then huddled with some difficulty under James’s invisibility cloak, snuck past Peeves and Filch and the patrolling staff (again with some difficulty), and made their way to the Whomping Willow just as the sun finished setting.

The three hurried to the Shack, and found Remus sitting, as usual, on the dusty bed in the upstairs bedroom. He looked very small on the king-sized mattress, and everything about him seemed to match the dim greyness of the Shack. He hardly looked up as his friends entered, just sat hunched with his arms around his knees.

Sirius helped him step gingerly out of his clothes, cracking jokes and working hard to maintain a friend-like expression as the other boy leaned heavily on him, bare chest pressed to Sirius’s shoulder. Then Sirius took his place beside the shivering boy, draping a dusty blanket around his shoulders as Peter and James transformed into their Animagi. Sirius liked to remain human until the Wolf came, to stay with Remus as himself until the last possible second. “You’ll be alright by tomorrow,” Sirius murmured, touching a hand to Remus’s shoulder. The boy twitched, eyes staring straight ahead, then nodded slowly. Sirius said this every time, and every time, it helped just a little.

Then, without warning, the boy shuddered. Sirius hated this part, the transformation. He hated watching the delicate features of his friend’s face bend and twist and break, hated how Remus’s calm intelligence drained from him as hunger filled his amber eyes, hated the gurgling screams which issued from his friend’s rending throat.

It lasted only minutes, and at the end, Sirius slipped into his dog form. As animals, the Wolf did not see them as prey, and any bites Moony might deliver them lost their potency. Only humans could be Turned, and so they never left their Animagus forms on the night of each full moon.

Moony let out a wild howl as the last few bones elongated in his fingers, turning them into vicious claws. Yellow eyes surveyed Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs, and the four creatures hung in stillness for a moment. Then they were off, leaping from the Shack and ripping through the Hogwarts grounds. They drank from the lake, they tore through the forest, they fought and howled and pranced and squealed and passed the time without thought. And then the eastern horizon began to glow, and three Marauders corralled a very tired werewolf back towards the Shack to Change.

They had made it to the entrance when it started. Shuddering, jolting, Moony collapsed to the ground. He convulsed there as a dog, a stag, and a rat gathered round him. Padfoot nosed his way under the arching back and half-pushed, half-carried the twitching boy into the Shack. Mooney groaned and shook as the last of the silver fur receded into his skin, and then he was still. Padfoot panted worriedly by his face, waiting for the wracking breaths that always came. When at last they did, he barked and licked his friend’s pale cheek.

“Disgusting, Pads,” said James, who had stepped into his human form. “C’mon, let’s get him in bed.”

Sirius shook himself human as well, then carefully slipped his arms under Remus’s back and legs to carry him up the stairs. Remus’s skin was hot, nearly letting off steam in the crisp September air. It happened this way every time-- he would grow progressively colder until the next full moon, when The Wolf would burst forth and light a fire in him once more.

They covered Remus with a blanket. Peter, who had been riding on James’s shoulder as a rat, leapt onto the bed and squirmed into a squat, sand-coloured boy.

“Who’s gonna stay with him this time?” He asked, eyes darting between his friends. “Sirius did it last time.” James darted a glance at Sirius, watching for a reaction to Peter’s tactless reminder of the morning after The Shitshow. But the long-haired boy only stared at their sleeping friend, remembering how Remus had blinked up at him and smiled, actually _smiled_ at Sirius. Remembering how when he had looked into that golden face, he had nearly decided not to tell Remus what he had done. But, Sirius was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were brave.

James’ voice broke the silence. “You can do it if you like, Peter.”

Peter shrugged. “Sure.”

James handed him the invisibility cloak. “Use it well,” he said soberly.

Peter rolled his eyes-- James said this every time. Then he turned and began to heal Remus’s minor wounds-- something they had begun doing after fourth year, when they were confident enough not to give their friend scales or sequins some such travesty.

Remus twitched as Peter’s wand passed over a particularly long wound which had split his flesh from collar bone to hip. Remus always emerged with injuries after the full moon, despite their attempts to keep him from self destruction. The transformations were damaging no matter what, and their roughhousing in the woods always ended with some minor wounds for all of them. But with each full moon there came moments in which the werewolf would stop chasing them and howl up at the sky, and they would race back to find Moony digging his claws into his own skin. Force of habit, Sirius supposed, from his years going through it alone.

Sirius hovered, watching to see if Peter was doing it right. He felt that he was best at healing such wounds, but the little rat was doing a passable job, so he turned to James. “Shall we?” Peter would stay behind with Remus in case he woke up before Madame Pomfrey came to collect him, and then march back into school under the invisibility cloak.

It was remarkable that nobody noticed a dog and a stag marching through the front doors. In hindsight, Sirius thought, perhaps they should have kept the cloak to themselves, what with Peter being a much smaller and less suspicious form. But they had developed this ritual of leaving the cloak for the last man, and he supposed they would keep it this way until… Until they parted ways?

Sirius shook his canine head; this was no time for such depressing thoughts. The worst part of the month was behind them, and they could focus on things like Quidditch, and more to the point, Quidditch.

***

The days before tryouts passed painfully slowly. Remus was in the hospital wing for two days-- longer than was normal, although he assured his friends that it was just to be safe, since the long gash across his abdomen had looked infected.

Once Remus had rejoined them, looking and acting significantly more like himself, the Marauders began to plan their first prank of the year.

“Who?” Was the first question from James’s mouth when Sirius brought it up one night as they sampled from Remus’s alarmingly massive stash of Honeydukes.

Sirius arched a brow and dug into the pack of of Ice Mice he had selected. “D-d-do you really have to ask?” He whistled through his teeth on the “s” of “ask”.

James grinned, and a puff of smoke escaped through his teeth. “Snivellus.” He tossed a Pepper Imp at Sirius.

Remus, who had been pointedly ignoring them with his nose in a book and a Chocolate Wand in his mouth, looked up. “Must we?”

“Yes.” His friends spoke in unison, staring at him blankly.

Remus frowned, the severity of the gesture diminished slightly by the smudge of chocolate on his chin. He fixed James in a plaintive stare. “Don’t you think that’ll piss Lily off?”

“Nope,” James grinned. “She broke it off with him last year. After he started hanging with the Death and Doom Club, I assume.”

“But he’s friends with Malfoy, and Malfoy’s a prefect!”

“So are you,” Peter said, prying a Jelly Slug off his bedpost and popping it into his mouth.

“But-- surely-- ugh.” Remus waved his hands dismissively. “I suppose it wouldn’t stop you either way.”

“Why’re you fighting this, Remus? We’ve pranked the git before.” Sirius’s head was tilted as he eyed his friend, and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the dog-like mannerism.

“Don’t want to provoke him.” He shrugged, hoping his comment would not incite the guilt that rose in Sirius at the slightest mention of his prank-gone-wrong.

Sirius dropped his gaze. “Right.” Snivellus had one of the Marauders’ deepest secrets locked in that slimy head of his-- and Sirius knew all too well who’s fault that was.

“But he swore to secrecy with Dumbledore, right?” Cut in Peter.

Remus shrugged. “Still. It’s almost like he’s doing us a favour.”

James snorted. “Blimey Remus! Have you gone soft in your old age?”

Remus winced and ran a hand through his hair. Sirius, who had been lounging against Remus’s bedpost, fell across the smaller boy’s legs and looked up at him with his hands behind his head. “Yeah, Remus, the only person Snivellus has ever done a favour for is himself. Doubtless Dumby offered him something in exchange for his silence, or had him make some sort of vow.” Remus was still avoiding his eyes, though. Sirius lowered his voice, watching the way Remus was worrying at his hair. “And you don’t look old, although occasionally you do act it.”

Remus’s eyes jumped to Sirius’s. “How did you--”

“Well, that settles it!” James said, not having heard the tail end of their muttered conversation. “Snape is a twat, nobody likes him, Moony can’t think of any good excuses, and so we shall prank the greasy pants off him.”

Peter made a face. “What a mental image.”

The night was full of planning and plotting and hook-nosed, greasy-haired impressions, and by the time the waning moon rose, Remus was smiling along with his friends, making careful suggestions which never failed to elicit enthusiastic declarations of his genius from Sirius. The latter popped in and out of his dog form, alternately sprinting round the room in circles and draping himself heavily over one or the other of his friends (although he chose Remus more often than not, explaining when prodded that _animals are known for their healing properties, I'm doing him a favour, thank you very much_ ).

They all fell asleep in the wrong beds, fully clothed and sugar-bloated and utterly satisfied with their night’s work. The prank would require a great deal of sneaking, and Remus had quietly suggested that they make a chart of their route charmed to plot the footsteps of any staff that might cross their path. An ingenious idea, the Marauders had agreed, and the poor werewolf had received far too many claps on the back from James for his stroke of brilliance.

They had agreed to do it the night of Quidditch tryouts, to celebrate the forming of a new team under James’s command. Remus had steered them toward one of the more harmless ideas, still determined not to anger Snape enough to risk the spilling of any secrets. Not that it was really a danger, because Sirius was right-- Dumbledore had taken care of the problem, as Dumbledore often did.

***

The morning of tryouts dawned early with the excited crowing of a bespectacled boy, met with the enthusiastic barks of a large black dog. Remus and Peter exchanged long-suffering looks as the two dark-haired creatures tore wildly about the room, changing into their Quidditch gear and speaking very fast about brooms and balls and hoops. Remus’s cheeks turned curiously pink at the sight of Sirius in his keepers’ gear, with the chest guard cinched tightly and armoured pants which hugged him hip to ankle. Peter asked if he was alright, and Remus hoarsely wrote it off as post-moon hot-flashes.

At Sirius’s urging, Remus accompanied them to the pitch to watch (as a good luck charm, Sirius had insisted, despite the fact that everyone had known from the moment James became captain that Sirius would have a spot on the team), trailed by a sleepy Peter.

Sirius, Remus thought, looked amazing on a broom-- natural, like he was born to guard the hoops. He barely touched the broom’s handle, leaving his arms free to stop oncoming quaffles. He only let one through the entire time, and that had been James’s work.

Once James had gathered his newly chosen team around him, beaming around and gesticulating fiercely, Remus and Peter descended from the stands. They accompanied the singing and tightly-packed group to the Gryffindor common room, where a celebratory party erupted (helped along by Peter, who had appeared with an armload of sweets from the kitchen to raucous applause). Once everyone else was sufficiently sloshed off Firewhiskey, the Marauders stole away to top the night off with a bit of carefully planned pranking.

James and Peter had been doing a bit of illicit brewing, since Peter was curiously good at potions. Meanwhile, it had been left to Remus and Sirius to get the map functioning. It was an unpolished thing, just a roughly-sketched path from the Gryffindor common room to the Slytherin which would show a dot whenever somebody entered the scope of their _Homenum Revelio_ charm. It had taken some doing to bind the charm to the parchment and ink, and Remus had received a bone-crushing hug which he couldn’t help but return when he had figured out how to do it.

The Marauders found the map invaluable as they dodged McGonagall, Peeves, and Malfoy on their way to the dungeons. It was a long trek, which increased their probability for getting caught, but Peter kept his nose to the map and warned them whenever danger approached. Remus scuttled along between James and Sirius, crouched awkwardly under the latter’s armpit as the long-haired boy held the fabric of the invisibility cloak off their faces. When at last they reached the dank opening to the Slytherin common room, they only had to wait for Malfoy to return from his prefectorial duties and slip silently in after him.

To their utter disappointment, the common room was pleasant. Different from theirs, and, as they would later argue, not nearly as warm and comfortable. But sleek, with high stone ceilings and a shining, green-tiled floor. The common room was nearly empty-- only a few upper-year students remained, poking through their textbooks and chatting in leather armchairs by the fire. Snivellus, to the Marauder’s relief, was sitting hunched in a corner, scribbling madly in his potions book. Malfoy informed them that it was time for bed, and the room emptied as students filed into the male and female hallways. Delighted, the Marauders watched as Snape stalked down his hall and entered the third door on the left.

“Right,” hissed James. “Now we know where the wanker sleeps. Peter, you’re up.”

Peter stared glassily at James. “Why don’t we just, I dunno, accio it here and then hover it back into his room when we’re done?”

James shook his head. “We’ve been over this, Pete-- people will be much more likely to notice a floating shampoo bottle than a rat, and if we mess up the steering of the hover charm and knock it into someone’s forehead, we’re sure to be caught.”

Peter’s eyebrows had puckered and his shoulders were trembling with fear, so Remus stepped in. “You don’t have to do this, Pete. It’s ok, we can do it another time.”

“No!” Peter squeaked, refusing to be the reason for the Marauder’s first failure. “No, I’ll do it.”

The grin on James’s face was far too predatory for a stag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! It felt like this chapter wandered a bit, but I suppose that's the nature of slice-of-life sorts of story. I'm kinda writing this off of whims, wolfstar feels, and a vague wish to portray cannon incidents...
> 
> Anyway, let me know if you're enjoying this! Kudos and comments are always much appreciated. Happy holidays!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing, drinking, and confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry it's a little late, guys. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: Homophobic slur, mild violence.

The prank went off without a hitch. Nobody noticed the rat stealing into Snape’s dormitory with a vial clutched between its teeth, and the four were able to steal back to their own common room before the party had even subsided, trusting that they would see the results of their prank very soon.

“Where’ve you been?” Cried Lily as she pulled Remus into the throng of tipsy Gryffindors. “You’ve missed the most legendary game of exploding snap.” Indeed, the ends of her hair looked a bit singed, and Dorcas Meadowes bore a smudge of ash between her smoking eyebrows. The blackened mark filled in the gap between her already thick brows, making her look a bit like a slightly deranged cavewoman.

Remus glanced around for his friends, and found that they too had been absorbed into the party. He spotted James, already participating in some sort of drinking game which involved chocolate frogs and a wizarding chess set. Peter was at his side, cheering him on as they urged the candy creatures across the board. The two groaned in defeat when James’s was brutally squashed by a black rook, and Remus watched as the dark haired boy accepted a large cup of brilliant blue liquid, which let off little puffs of steam as he downed it.

Remus located Sirius on a pouf by the fire, where a small herd of fourth-year girls were chanting “chug, chug, chug” as he downed a bottle of what appeared to be cooking sherry. When it was empty he looked up through the cheering girls, meeting Remus’s eyes as he drew a sleeve across his mouth.

“Alright?” Lily patted Remus’s shoulder as he stared at the wet mouth and flashing eyes. “You look a little pink.”

“It’s nothing,” muttered Remus, tearing his gaze away from Sirius’s wet mouth and flashing eyes. Lily had followed his gaze, though, and turned back to him with an eyebrow raised. “Hot in here,” he finished feebly.

Lily flashed him a grin, and looked about to say something when Meadowes pulled her back in for another game, leaving Remus standing alone in the midst of the party.

“Howzit, Lupin?” It was Gideon Prewett, a broad ginger fellow who had made the Gryffindor team as a beater, along with his brother Fabian. “You look a bit peaky-- here, have a crumpet.”

Remus, slightly bewildered, took the proffered crumpet. Gideon beamed hazily at him, and Remus took a cautious bite. The ginger’s grin widened and he clapped Remus roughly on the shoulder. “Good man,” he declared, before disappearing into the party.

“They have a real love of food, the Prewetts.” The voice was very close, and Remus jumped a little before he realized it was Sirius.

“So I’ve gathered.” Remus offered the unwanted crumpet to Sirius, who shrugged and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. Remus smiled at him, amused, and Sirius grinned back around a very large mouthful of masticated breadstuff. “You’re gross,” Remus said, still smiling as he gave Sirius a playful smack on the shoulder.

“Didn’t seem to put you off, though, did it?” Sirius swallowed the last of the crumpet and gave him an cheeky smirk. Somebody had put on The Hobgoblins, and chairs and tables were being pushed aside to create a dance floor.

Remus’s heart thumped painfully in his chest, and he worked hard to control the flush now spreading across his face. “I’m a prefect, and you’re a walking safety hazard,” he said, proud of the cool evenness in his voice. “How much sherry did you drink?”

“Enough to do this!” And Sirius grabbed Remus’s hand, lifted it above his head, and _twirled_ him. Then he grabbed Remus’s waist and began to dance, in the middle of the common room. Remus went beet-red.

Luckily, enough people had already started to dance that the two did not stand out, although Remus swore he heard a whoop from the exploding snaps table.

“Um,” said Remus, looking up at Sirius as the dark-haired boy dipped and twisted to the music, warm hands still low on Remus’s waist. Sirius met his gaze, and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the happiness that crinkled the corners of those silvery eyes. _Fuck it_ , he thought, and he began to move too. He hadn’t much practice, and didn’t move as naturally as Sirius, but soon enough he was having fun. Unsure of where to put his hands, he braced them on Sirius’s shoulders-- but by the time the dance floor began to empty, they were wound behind the taller boy’s neck.

Nobody remembered how they had found their way to bed, but everyone woke up the next day with dry mouths and aching heads. Remus, who hadn’t drunk anything at all, found himself playing nurse to a groaning Sirius and James. He forced them both into the showers, and dug in his trunk for the muggle Advil his mother always packed him. He watched sternly as the dark haired boys each took two, then frogmarched them to the great hall for some much-needed breakfast, Peter trailing doggedly behind.

They had nearly forgotten the prank they had pulled the previous night-- Sirius’s dancing antics had erased it from Remus’s brain, and the other three had doused their own grey matter in large quantities of alcohol. However, they had no trouble remembering what they had done once five angry Slytherins accosted them in the Great Hall.

They had barely entered the high-ceilinged room when Snape, Mulciber, Avery, Crabbe, and Rosier shoved them backwards into the hallway. It was deserted-- the Marauders were late to breakfast, so most students were already seated inside the Great Hall.

“What the fuck is this?” Hissed Snape, pulling at a lock of his hair. It was silver-- luminous and nearly glowing. The hook-nosed boy glared back and forth between James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus. “Tell us how to get it out, before something unpleasant happens.” Behind him, the four equally bright-haired Slytherins glowered, flexing their muscles and laying threatening hands on their wands.

Sirius made a show of looking Snape up and down, a quizzical expression on his face. “Get what out, Snivellus? I see nothing different about you.” He was squinting exaggeratedly, as though looking at Snape was as painful as looking into the sun.

Snape snarled wordlessly, lunging forward to grab the front of Sirius’s robes.

James stepped between them, shoving Snape off his friend. “Don’t you touch him, you little--”

But before he could finish his sentence, Crabbe stepped forward and socked him, hard, in the stomach. James bent double and Sirius launched himself at the Slytherin goon, shoving him backward and straddling him where he fell. He pulled his fist back, ready to land a punch, when Crabbe spat, “Get off me, you faggot!”

Sirius froze. Remus saw his whole body tense, as though the words had pierced him as deeply as a sword. And then, before Remus knew what he was doing, he was shoving Sirius aside and landing the punch himself. It hurt, more than he had expected it to, and he heard a crack as his fist made contact with the other boy’s face.

There was silence as he stood, brushing himself off and avoiding everyone’s eyes. The other Slytherins appeared frozen, as though unsure of what had just happened. Even the other Marauders were gaping (although James may just have been gasping for air); Remus Lupin, renowned for his mild-mannered countenance, had just lost his shit. Crabbe scrambled to his feet, hand clasped to a broken nose.

Remus stalked up to the bleeding thug, brushed the meaty hand aside, and growled, “ _Episkey_.” Crabbe’s nose straightened with an audible click. Then he stepped back, surveyed the stunned group, and spoke once more, very softly. “Twenty points from Slytherin, for the use of a homophobic slur. And twenty points from Gryffindor, for resolving a dispute with violence.”

He met Snape’s gaze and held it, and after a few moments the other boy stepped back into the Great Hall, to be followed by his glowing-haired companions.

As soon as the Slytherins were gone, Remus looked over at James, who was standing straight once more with the support of Peter. “Alright, James?” The other boy nodded, but then he lifted his chin in a gesture toward Sirius.

Remus followed his gaze, and saw that Sirius was still sitting where he had fallen when Remus had pushed him aside. He was breathing very shallowly, eyes fixed on a point in the middle-distance, and Remus went to kneel by his side.  
“Sirius?”

The dark-haired boy did not respond, only sat stiffly with his eyes glazed over. Remus had never seen him like this-- a boy so full of energy and excitement, reduced to a statue by only a few words. He put a hand to Sirius’s arm, and found the muscles rigid beneath his skin. He glanced over his shoulder to James and Peter, who were watching on with concern in their faces. “I’ll take care of him, just go ahead and eat.”

  
James met his eyes and nodded, knowing that Remus was best at this sort of thing-- just talking, without making fun or boasting.

When they were gone, Remus sat down next to Sirius, hand still on his friend’s arm. “I did some reading about panic attacks,” he said quietly. “After I had that one on the train.”

Sirius did not move.

“I found out that they aren’t always like mine, with the trouble breathing and all that. Sometimes, people just get irritable or start talking really fast. And sometimes, they don’t talk at all.”

Again, Sirius made no indication that he had heard.

“I also read that the best way to calm someone when they’re having a panic attack is to make sure they know they’ll get through it. Help them breath, if they’re having trouble-- but of course, you knew that. Didn’t you?”

No response.

“Sirius,” he murmured. “I want you to know that what you’re feeling right now isn’t forever. For now, just focus on your breath-- how it feels coming in and going out, how it makes your chest expand and contract… Just focus on that for me, ok? I’ll be here.”

Remus began to use his free hand to rub circles into Sirius’s back, something that had always calmed Remus down.

They sat like that for a while-- Remus wasn’t sure how long-- until Sirius’s muscles began to loosen and he blinked, then looked up at his friend. His eyes were shining and his mouth was quivering and suddenly he looked very young to Remus, like a child that had been left alone for too long, and without thinking he pulled Sirius into his arms. The other boy buried his face in Remus’s neck, arms coming around to clutch at the back of his robes.

When they parted, Remus looked at Sirius appraisingly. “This happens to you a lot, doesn’t it? Just, not usually when we’re around.”

Sirius frowned at him for a moment, then nodded.

“At Grimmauld Place?” Remus pressed.

Sirius barked a humourless laugh. “Sometimes I wonder why you aren’t in Ravenclaw, Moony.”

Remus gave him a small smile, but he had one more question he needed to ask. “Sirius,” he started, mind working to form the rest of the sentence. “Sirius, why did-- why did the word Crabbe used affect you like that?”

And this time, the panic was visible in Sirius’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say here, other than that I'd love to hear how you guys are finding the story so far! Have a lovely day, wherever you are.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marauders muse over recent events, and Remus receives a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY it's late again, I got stuck without my laptop. Nightmare, I know. You can blame the inclement weather.
> 
> I'm going to start posting just once a week soon, but the chapters will be a little longer to make up for it.

James was no fool.

Sure, he got wrapped up in his conquests for love and his pranks and his Quidditch, but he could see a sign when it was staring him in the face. A sign like the one he had just seen-- his best friend, the brashest of Gryffindors, put off his game by a homophobic slur. Reduced to a staring shell of himself, unable to speak or move.

Yes, he saw all, and he understood.

Sirius had anxiety.

He should have suspected it really-- over the summer, he had noticed something off about his friend. Occasionally, a word or movement would trigger a prolonged silence from Sirius, or a fit of tremors in his leg. He seemed on-edge, flighty even, and James was sure it had something to do with his family. They had done something unforgivable to him, something that had broken his nerve. James didn't know what they had done or why the Blacks had finally snapped, but now that he had seen his friend freeze in the middle of a fight, he had to get to the bottom of it. Moreover, he had to find a way to fix it. If it happened again when Remus wasn't there to defend Sirius, or in midair over a Quidditch pitch, their resident Black could be terribly hurt.

Yes, James had work to do.

***

_ So _ , Peter thought.  _ Sirius is gay. _

Sirius had been called a blood traitor and a muggle-lover by the Slytherins, had endured whispers calling him the snake in the lion's’ den since the beginning of first year. And yet, when called something as commonly insulting as a “faggot”, he had been reduced to a quivering lump.

_ This makes two out of four _ , Peter mused as he watched Remus and Sirius approach the Gryffindor table together. Sirius looked shaken, and Remus looked… hopeful? Something between hope and empathy, Peter decided.  _ Probably glad he might have a chance at Black after all. _

Peter had watched he werewolf pine after Sirius for six years now, watched him forgive the pureblood for every insult and atrocity. After their scene on the train, it had finally cemented in Peter's mind-- there was no other explanation, at least none that Peter could fathom. This little episode had only confirmed what he had already known.

Remus Lupin was in love with Sirius Black. 

He may not have been an expert with a wand, nor as brave as his friends; but if there was one thing Peter Pettigrew was, it was  _ observant. _

***

Remus watched Sirius out of the corner of his eye as they ate. 

When he had asked Sirius about his reaction to Crabbe’s words, the black-haired boy had looked so terrified, so utterly panicked, that Remus had backed off right away.

“It’s ok, Pads. I don’t need to know.”

And Sirius had given him a smile, and it had looked more like a crack in his facade than an expression of happiness. Remus hadn’t known what to do, then. He had just looked at his friend, who had far more pain in him than Remus had ever known. It had been all Remus could do not to cry.

“Your hand,” Sirius had said when Remus had winced as he pulled him to his feet. “Let me see it.”

“M’fine,” Remus had muttered, half-embarrassed about his earlier loss of control. He had gone to stuff the bruised hand into his pocket, but Sirius had grabbed it, gently, and healed it. There had been a pause before he had dropped Remus’s hand, where the werewolf was caught wondering if Sirius would kiss the newly healed knuckles-- but then the moment had vanished as a gaggle of first years had burst out of the great hall.

Now he sat next to Sirius, half-listening to James as he waxed poetic on the newest Cleansweep model. Peter was eyeing the both of them beadily, and Remus wondered how much his rat-like friend had guessed. 

Meanwhile, Sirius was pressed to him knee-to-hip on the rather cramped bench and it was making Remus feel rather hot. He eased a finger between his collar and his neck, cursing the new moon for its effects on his body temperature. 

“You good, Remus?”

Sirius must have noticed the flush in Remus’s cheeks, or the bead of sweat travelling down his neck-- or hell, perhaps he had noticed the heat coming off the werewolf in waves.

“Hot,” murmured Remus. “New moon.”

Sirius smirked. “Surely you could loosen your tie? Perhaps undo a button or two?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Remus quipped, but the smirk dropped from Sirius’s face. Remus froze, cursing himself for his tactlessness-- only minutes after discovering Sirius’s sensitivity to homophobia, here he was making  _ gay jokes.  _ He was so busy scolding himself that he did not notice Sirius lean in until the taller boy spoke.

“I would.”

And then Sirius stood, said something to James and Peter, and did not notice as the flush spread through Remus’s whole body.

***

The rest of the day passed normally for the Marauders. In fact, it was a rather ordinary week-- at least, as ordinary as a week could be at Hogwarts. The only incident of note came in the form of an article in the Daily Profit on Thursday.

“Agh, not again!” Remus squinted at the paper as Sirius read over his shoulder. An image took up the front page, of a docked ship burning with the dark mark writhing in the smoke-blackened sky above. It was captioned, “8 Muggles, 1 Auror Dead to Death Eater Hands.”

Remus flipped through the paper to find the article. “It says that the Aurors had located a group of Death Eaters who were trying to treaty with the merpeople of the North Sea. They chased them through a shipyard, but a muggle ship-- the HMS  _ Glasgow _ \--- was caught in the crossfire. Literally, the whole thing went up in flames. The Auror that died went in to save the muggle workers on board, but apparently it was-- Merlin, it was fiendfyre!”

“Wot?” Asked Sirius. “What’s that?”

“Fiendfyre- flame infused with dark magic. It’s nearly impossible to control, it’s a miracle it didn’t spread further.”

James let out a low whistle. “One of those Death Eaters must have been seriously powerful to be able to wield that stuff. My dad told me that they did some experiments with it at the ministry-- Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, you know-- and the entire floor was burned beyond repair. Took a whole team of ministry officials just to contain the stuff, let alone put it out.”

“There’s a dark irony in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes being destroyed in a magical accident,” said Remus wryly. 

“What a catastrophe,” supplied Sirius, helpfully.

James rolled his eyes. “This is serious, you two.”

Sirius grinned and opened his mouth.

“Don’t.” James said. “Just don’t.”

“What’s the big deal?” asked Peter. “So the dark side has a powerful wizard. So do we! We’ve got the whole ministry and Dumbledore and McGonagall on our side.”

James shook his head. “But this was just a reconnaissance team, sent to scout out the Merpeople. Hardly a crew of crack fighters, I imagine. They wouldn’t have been Voldemort’s best, and still one of them had the power to use Fiendfyre.”

There was silence at the table.

“Merlin, Potter, I never knew you had a sober bone in you,” piped a feminine voice. “I’m almost impressed.”

It was Lily, and as soon as she spoke all sobriety melted straight out of James. “Well,” he croaked, voice cracking slightly as he met her eyes. “Sirius-- I mean, serious thing, this war.  Gotta take it.. seriously, and all that.”

“Right,” smirked Lily. “Very astute.” And she turned back to Marlene and Dorcas.

James slumped, dragging a hand over his face. 

“Cheer up, mate!” Sirius reached across the table and clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder. Remus primly lifted the other boy’s dragging sleeve from his glass of Pumpkin Juice. “First Quidditch match this weekend!”

And the group immersed itself in a discussion of Ravenclaw’s shoddy defence, all thoughts of the war momentarily forgotten.

***

The following day found Remus arguing with Professor McGonagall.

Sirius loved it when Remus did this-- he nearly always used words Sirius had never heard before, and every time, Gryffindor walked away with at least 10 points for Remus’s skill in debate. The boy was a genius, just as Sirius always insisted. 

He focused, not wanting to miss the end of the argument.

“--but why bother creating a two-step bridge between the conditional pre-transformation and the hyperclusion? If you can find a decent enough contrapositive that serves both the prior and the latter, then surely you would only require the one bridge?”

“This is true, Mr. Lupin, but very rarely can a witch or wizard come up with such an example, particularly when in a rush.”

“If the witch or wizard has been taught to do so, then surely they could.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, and Sirius cheered inwardly. This was the sign that Remus had won.

“A good point, Mr. Lupin. Perhaps I should put you in contact with the author of  _ A Guide to Advanced Transformation.  _ Ten points to Gryffindor, and please come speak to me after class.”

Remus blinked at this-- he doubted Professor McGonagall actually wanted him to contact the author of their textbook. So what did she want to talk to him about? Was he in trouble for arguing with her in class? Surely not, as she seemed to enjoy their debates as much as he did.

“Someone’s in trouuuble,” Sirius crooned in his ear.

When he approached McGonagall’s desk after the class had ended, she looked up at him and arched a brow. “Ah, Mr. Lupin. You needn't look so apprehensive, I’ve only a proposition for you.”

Remus stood awkwardly at her desk and nodded.

“Have a seat, boy. And a biscuit.” She waved at a small tin of confections, and Remus took the one that looked most like chocolate.

“You have a talent for public speaking, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus blinked. He had never thought of speaking in class as particularly public-- it had always felt as though he were addressing only her.

“You look surprised.” McGonagall smiled one of her rare smiles.

“Well, it’s not a skill I… I’ve always thought of myself as quiet.”

“And that you are, Mr. Lupin. Unless you have something to say, and then you speak quite clearly, and with finesse.”

“Er… right.” Remus wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Have you ever thought of putting this talent to use?” McGonagall examined him over her spectacles. Remus shook his head earnestly.

“Are you aware that we are still without a Quidditch commentator for the year?”

Remus stared. “You… you want me? To commentate, for the whole school?"

McGonagall nodded fastidiously. “Precisely. Do think on it, Mr. Lupin, and get back to me as soon as possible. Else we may find our first Quidditch match commentated by Professor Binns, and nobody wants that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done with, and this time I really must thank you all for your kind words and Kudos! It is very encouraging to hear from you, makes me feel less like a madwoman shooting words into an impassive void, and all that. <3
> 
> Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's game day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope your week was lovely. Please enjoy!

“What I want to know,” said James, as he dangled upside down over the edge of his bed, “Is how the fuck so many Slytherins ended up with the silver hair.”

“You’ve really been holding that in, haven’t you, Prongs?” Remus snorted. “It’s been like two weeks.”

“Yeah,” said James, taking his glasses off and rubbing them on his rumpled shirt. “Yeah, but certain events (sorry Pads) put it out of my mind, and I kept forgetting to mention it.”

“Well,” sighed Remus, putting down his book. “I believe that the tonic you and Peter brewed was activated by something-- the hot water or the grease in Snape’s hair, who knows-- and turned it into a gas, which affected everybody who took a shower that morning.”

James laughed, clapping his hands together as he righted himself. “A blessing unforeseen,” he grinned, delighted. “Thought it would just turn Snivellus’ oily head, but instead we’ve ended up with a dozen celestial Slytherins!”

“I wonder what else we could do with that stuff,” Sirius mused, a devious look crossing his face. Remus watched him for a while, watched the thoughts flit across his face like clouds. When his features pulled into a devilish grin, he prepared himself for--

“I wonder what else was dyed silver…”

***

“It’s nearly time,” squeaked Peter. “Oh, Remus, I wish you hadn’t agreed to commentate. I’ll be all alone!”

“I’m sure you could sit with Lily and Marlene,” Remus offered weakly. The pair had said their goodbyes to James and Sirius at the locker rooms and made their way into the stands. Peter was hovering nervously at Remus’s side as he settled in to the commentator’s podium.

“Ah, but they’re so… so…”

“GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!” Remus twisted round to find Lily and her friends in their usual game day attire, looking rather as though they had just gorged on a fresh kill with their red face-paint, realistically twitching lion-ear headbands, and slightly rabid expressions. Their friend Dorcas was the second chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team, and they were not ones to half-arse their support.

“Yeah,” Remus sighed. “I know what you mean.” He turned his attention to the pitch as the Gryffindor team appeared, doubling the roaring of the crowd.

“Mr. Lupin! Are you ready?” Professor McGonagall appeared at his side, making him jump.

“Er, I think so,” Remus replied. He had heard enough about quidditch from James and Sirius over the years to understand the game, and he had practiced his terminology with them in the days prior to the match. He had even gone so far as to sit and listen to the weekly Puddlemere United match with Sirius, scribbling furiously as he made note of the radio commentator’s technique.

“Good,” McGonagall said primly. She shot Peter a significant look, and he buggered off to sit with Lily at an apologetic grimace from Remus.

Remus searched the pitch below for Sirius as the two teams lined up to face each other. The dark-haired boy looked determined and steady on his feet, and Remus silently thanked James for his skills in verbal manipulation-- or, as he called it, “motivational speaking”; Sirius had been a mess at breakfast that morning.

Remus remembered the worry in Sirius’s eyes as he had turned to Remus and asked, “What if I drop the ball?”

Remus, so used to Sirius’s seemingly bottomless confidence, had smiled and said, “Then, it means you caught it in the first place.”

Now, Sirius glanced up and met Remus’s eyes, flashing him a grin and a thumbs up. Remus grinned back, and nearly missed as Madam Hooch’s whistle as she signalled kickoff.

He cleared his throat, pulled the microphone to his lips, and summoned as much energy as he could. “And we’re off, with Gryffindor in possession. First match of the season, with the Gryffindor team led by James Potter in his first year as captain, Ravenclaw by Paisley Negan as she returns for her final year at Hogwarts.

Potter tosses the quaffle to Meadowes, Meadowes ducks round Matteson, and ohh-- bludger to the back, courtesy of Ravenclaw beater Grant. Ravenclaw with the quaffle now, Gibson speeding towards goal-- and, saved! Saved by Gryffindor keeper, Sirius Black!”

The game was fast-paced, the crowd excited, and Remus found himself speaking with more enthusiasm than he thought himself capable of. He didn’t shout like previous commentators, preferring a more low-key, informative style, but he injected his voice with as much interest and energy as he could muster. It helped to pretend as though he were reading a particularly thrilling book aloud, something he had done for Sirius since second year. He only allowed his voice to raise when a goal was scored or a foul committed, and even then, it was only to be heard over the crowd.

Sirius, too, was excelling at his job. The score was 70--0 to Gryffindor, and Sirius swooped and darted with such grace and speed that Remus wondered why his animagus was a dog, when he looked so much like a swallow.

The Slytherin crowd was not happy about Gryffindor’s lead. They had begun a low chant, some obnoxious rhyme that Remus couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to until it caught on with a group of riled-up Ravenclaws, boosting its volume over Gryffindor’s Lily-led cheer squad.

 

“Potter leads a lovely team,

Of red and gold and Black,

No wonder they are winning

When their keeper’s such a catch!”

 

Remus darted a glance over at the Slytherins, and saw a boy with glowing silvery hair mock-conducting a group of green- and blue-clad students, a few of whom also bore the marks of the Marauders’ prank. He squinted, and saw that the conductor had lank hair and a hunched disposition. _Snape._

He continued his stream of speech, hoping that if Sirius was listening to anything, it was his own voice. He knew that not much could phase Sirius after years of hate from his family and the Death Squad, but if the hecklers hit a trigger--

 

“Potter’s got a wholesome group,

Class acts, one and all!

No wonder Black won’t let one in--

He’s used to handling balls!”

 

McGonagall hissed under her breath and departed toward the hecklers as Remus stuttered mid-sentence, turning wide eyes to his friend. Sirius, who usually patrolled back and forth in front of his goalposts when the quaffle was out of range, was hovering hunched on his broom. James tossed the Quaffle to Dorcas, shouted something at her, and flew over to Sirius. Dorcas zoomed upward, trailed by both enemy beaters, drawing the Ravenclaw team’s attention.

Remus resumed his commentary. It seemed not many people had noticed the few-second lag. Instead, all eyes were on Dorcas, who was currently whizzing round the Staff section of the stands, delighting Dumbledore and infuriating her Ravenclaw pursuers.

Whatever James was saying to Sirius was having no effect. The boy was still frozen-- it was a miracle his broom was still in the air. Perhaps Sirius was so concentrated on not falling, he couldn’t focus on breaking out of his panic. Remus needed to do something-- to say something. But how to do it without drawing attention to the issue?

As he thought about what to do, the beaters had got the best of Dorcas, and the quaffle was once more in Ravenclaw possession. They were on the opposite end of the pitch from Sirius, but he had only seconds before they were on him.

Remus took a deep breath. “Ravenclaw in possession, coming down the field toward the Gryffindor goal. Um, athletes such as these are notorious for their ability to _control their breathing_ , and their capacity to _focus on what matters_ . Er, such as the fact that each match _will end_ , and, win or lose, _they will get through it_.” He winced at his awkward phrasing. But, for the moment, it seemed to be doing what he had hoped-- Sirius was breathing again, shaking his head and looking around.

But it was just a moment too late.

“Ah,” Remus gritted his teeth. “And Ravenclaw have scored their first goal of the match.” Gryffindor was still winning, though, and James seemed satisfied with Sirius’s condition as he took off down the field with the retrieved quaffle.

Remus glanced back at the Slytherin crowd and saw that McGonagall had Snape by the ear, and was busy telling the rest of the hecklers where they could shove it (or at least, that’s what Remus would be telling them-- he couldn’t hear McGonagall from where he was sitting). He resisted the urge to point and laugh, turning his attention back to the pitch instead.

“Oh, and Magnus McGonagall seems to have spotted something! He’s speeding toward the Ravenclaw goal hoops, and their Seeker is nowhere to be found. McGonagall’s lifting his hand, and there’s something in it-- that’s it! Gryffindor has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!”

Cheers erupted from the stands, magnified lion roars spilling from Lily and Marlene’s wands. Remus couldn’t help but pump both fists, and soon enough he found himself swept down to the pitch, where the Gryffindor team was being congratulated by a sea of red and gold.

He spotted Sirius, who was grinning around at his fans. But there was something stiff in his posture, something wild around his eyes, and Remus wondered if he had fully recovered from his moment of panic.

“Pads!” Remus called, shoving his way through the crowd toward his friend. “Pads, you were magnificent.” The gaggle of fans parted, and Remus found himself standing in front of Sirius. The keeper’s sleeves were sticking to his sweat-dampened biceps, and a few strands of his ebony hair were stuck to his forehead. Without thinking, Remus lifted a hand and brushed them aside, then froze when Sirius flinched. Silver eyes met amber, and Remus cleared his throat, wishing he could banish the desperation in his friend’s gaze. Sirius had never been afraid of his touch before.

“Sorry, Pads, there’s just a bit of hair stuck to your--”

“No problem, Moony!” Boomed Sirius, clapping him on the shoulder in a very James-like manner. “Let’s get to celebrating, right ladies?” He addressed his adoring crowd. And then he walked away from Remus, a girl under each arm.

“Shall we go up?” It was Peter, breathless from his climb down from the stands. Wordlessly, Remus nodded.

As they trudged behind the Gryffindor crowd, Remus pondered Sirius’s wild expression and his reaction to Remus’s touch. It seemed that any insinuation that Sirius was… was _gay_ made him panic. Even a friendly motion from someone who had touched him, had been touched _by_ him, so often before. Why, though? Sirius was a massive flirt, and had never bothered to discriminate between genders. He was so over the top that Remus had never taken him seriously before… That is, until the dancing. That, and his straight-faced comment that he would, indeed, like to see Remus sans his tie and top few buttons. But now, Sirius was pulling back. Was it because of the public setting? Because he feared that every reaction would be like Crabbe’s? _“Get off me, you faggot!”_

But surely he knew that Crabbe was an idiot-- a Death Eater, probably. Not somebody worth listening to. Remus sighed. It seemed the problem went deeper than that, and perhaps further into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo-- sorry if this chapter seemed a little rushed, moving and school happened this week -.-' Anyway, if you liked it, let me know! I always appreciate your feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! We've reached a true milestone-- 69 Kudos. Thank you all, I can die now in peace. 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

When the Gryffindor crowd reached the common room, Remus made sure to grab James's arm before he could be pulled into the celebration.

"I need to talk to you about Sirius."

James nodded gravely, a look of deep understanding crossing his features. "Yeah. Me too."

Remus raised an eyebrow, startled. "You've figured it out, then?"

James shrugged. "It was pretty obvious."

"So, you know that Sirius--"

"Has anxiety," James said.

"--is gay?" Remus finished.

James stared. "Wait, what?"

"Oh." Remus said. "Well, we have a lot to talk about."

***

Sirius had felt like a god up there, focused and winning and  _ adored _ . That is, until the chanting of the crowd formed itself into words and rose above the Gryffindor din. Until the rhyme, the one about  _ him _ , reached Sirius’s ears.

Then he had felt very small, and very high up, and very alone.

The familiar tightness had gripped his chest and all he could think was  _ please, not now, not now. _ And he had hovered, just barely in control of his broom, until James came zooming over to him. He couldn’t really hear what James was saying over the crowd, and James kept  _ touching  _ him, and not in the way he needed. Rough slaps on the back jarred him, and when James shook him by the shoulders he thought he would fall right out of the sky.

But then Remus’s voice had lifted over the crowd and Sirius had heard the words so clearly directed at him-- words Remus had said last time, words that he had learned to say to himself back at the Grimmauld Place, back when he would crouch in his room with his back to the door, frozen in place after narrow escapes.

And the words had entered his bones and his muscles and his skin, warming him and loosening him like a warm bath or a cup of tea, or like the stories Remus used to read to him. And he had recovered,  just enough to finish out the game, and to pretend as though what the Slytherins had chanted was  _ silly _ , was  _ childish _ , was a  _ lie. _

But it wasn’t.

Well, in the literal sense, it was-- the only balls Sirius had handled were here on the Quidditch pitch, or alone in his bed. But they hit the sentiment spot on.

It had first entered his mind in fourth year, when James’s obsession with Lily really took off. While James would talk about the shine of her hair or the brightness of her eyes or the way she moved, Sirius’s mind would wander to hard chests and rough jaws and, unfailingly, rougher hands. But he had put it down to puberty, and the general strangeness of all fourteen year old boys.

It hadn’t left his mind, though, and by the end of fifth year, it had cemented there. Sirius Black, heir to the Black fortune and bearer of the family name, was gay.

Now, however, Sirius Black had one girl in his lap and another perched on the arm of his chair. They were drunk, like him, and the one on his lap kept telling him something about his eyes, or his hair. But his eyes were not on her-- they were on Remus.

His friend had been leaning against the wall, deep in discussion with James, when Gideon had approached and clapped him on the shoulder. Remus had turned to Gideon, intense expression transforming into a smile. And Gideon had reached out,  _ again _ , and put a hand on his shoulder. And then he had left it there. That was what had caught Sirius’s attention and kept it-- that bit of prolonged contact with Remus.

“It’s just so thick, you have no idea how lucky you are-- do you use any tonics?” The girl on his lap was saying as she pawed at his hair.

“Nah,” he said. “S’just like that.” He shoved her off his lap, muttering something about needing the loo, and stomped over to where Remus stood talking to Gideon.

“‘Scuse me,” he barked. “Why is your Moony on my hand-- I mean, your hand on my Moony?”

Gideon looked up at him, startled. “Oh, Sirius! I was just telling Lupin here how much I enjoyed his commentary. Much more professional than the usual tripe, really got the game across to the spectators--”

“Of course his commentating was good, he is Lemus Rupin! Master of most things!” He shouldered between them in a show of reaching for James’s butterbeer, knocking Gideon’s arm aside.

Gideon’s brow furrowed. “Er, right. Well, good talking to you, Lupin. Potter.” He nodded at them both before trudging off to join his brother at the Exploding Snap table.

Sirius glared after Gideon, taking a swig of James’s butterbeer before turning back to his friends. He found Remus staring at him with an eyebrow raised, while James watched him with arms crossed.

“Wot?” He asked.

Remus just shook his head. “Can I talk to you, Sirius?”

“Of course!” Sirius shouted, flinging his arm round Remus’s shoulder.

“Is now the best time?” James muttered to Remus, looking skeptical.

Remus shrugged. “Sooner better than later.”

James met his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Make sure to mention what I said to you--”

“I know, James. I’ve got it covered.”

Sirius watched this in mild confusion, swaying slightly despite his grip on Remus.

“C’mon, Pads. Let’s go up.”

“Already?” Sirius whined. “Party’s only just started.” 

“Yes, well.” Remus was having some trouble leading him up the stairs. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why upstairs?” Sirius pouted. “Upstairs is so far away from the alcohol.”

“I think you’ve had quite enough of that, Sirius. And besides, it’s more private.”

Sirius grinned. He liked the idea of going somewhere private with Remus. “Alright.”

When they reached their room, Remus dumped Sirius on his bed and went rummaging in his drawers. “Take this,” he said, handing Sirius a vial with green liquid and a blurry label. Sirius downed it in one gulp. “Good boy.”

Then Remus perched on his own bed, watching Sirius as the inebriated boy arranged himself in what he clearly hoped was an appealing position-- one leg up on the bed, the other dangling to the floor, head propped up on one arm as the other scratched his arse.

“So,” Sirius said with an attempt at gravity. “What did you need to say?”

Remus’s hands twisted in his lap, and he looked down at them as he tried to formulate his question. “Sirius,” he began. “You know that we-- me and James, I mean, and probably Peter-- we care a lot about you, right?”

Sirius nodded, grinning.

“And we enjoy you most when you’re acting like yourself, yes?”

Sirius tilted his head. “What do you mean?” His mouth had taken on an odd tingling which was spreading into the rest of his skull, and he wondered what it was that Remus had given him.

“Well, we know that you sometimes put up a front-- and we understand that you use it to protect yourself, like from Slytherin bullies or Gryffindors who don't trust you.”

Sirius frowned. He hadn’t really thought of it as a front-- just as the part of him he wanted the world to see. The rest of him was too private, too strange or vulnerable to be shared with anyone but his best friends. “I suppose,” he allowed. 

“Well, Sirius… We -- James and I -- have been wondering if perhaps you’ve put up a bit of a front with us, as well. If you’ve been-- well, not  _ lying _ . Just, not telling us the truth about yourself.”

Sirius’s stomach dropped, and as the tingling chased away the last of his buzz, he realized what Remus was saying. He sat up.

Remus’s gaze softened as he watched Sirius’s face. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Sirius stared at him for a second, then his face crumpled. Remus’s mouth dropped open as, like a dam that’s been broken, the words came rushing out of Sirius.

“I tried to stop it, I did! I knew it was wrong, I knew the whole time that it was wrong. I knew  _ I  _ was wrong. I’m sorry, Remus! I don’t know how to change it, I don’t know how to think like normal boys. I’ve tried, I really have. I’ve tried to stop it.”

Remus hurried over to Sirius’s side and stopped the frantic waving of the boy’s hands, holding them tight in his own. “No-- Sirius! Look at me.”

The grey eyes were full of tears as, with a great deal of effort, Sirius turned his gaze to Remus’s face. 

Remus’s breath hitched at the fear there, but he ploughed forward. “Sirius, why do you think that being gay is so wrong?”

Sirius flinched at that word, one that he had been hiding from for years now. “Well,” he said, voice rough. “My parents. And, those Slytherins. And, all the times they’ve used the word… the word  _ fag _ to insult someone. And not just them-- other Gryffindors!  _ James _ , once or twice!”

Remus winced. “I’ve talked to him about that. Sirius, being gay is nothing to be ashamed of. Some people don’t see it that way, but those people-- your parents among them-- are wrong! They hate people like you because you dare to be happy being  _ different  _ from them. And some people, like James, use the word because it's popular to do so, and they haven't thought about the damage it can do.”

Sirius stared at him. “You don’t think… you don’t think I’m wrong? That I’m all twisted?”

Remus barked a humourless laugh. “If I thought that, my opinion of myself would be in the gutter.”

Sirius blinked. “What, you’re--”

Remus smiled. “Yeah, I’m queer too, Sirius. I used to think it was wrong, but when I told my mum about it she just said that some people are born that way. That it’s not even that unusual.”

“It's not?” Sirius asked, before another question crossed his mind. “If that’s true, then why did you keep it a secret? Have you told James?” Sirius did not like the idea of James being the first of the Marauders to know.

Remus shrugged. “No, I haven't. I guess I didn’t want to bother you with yet another personal revelation.  You already deal with my lycanthropy on a monthly basis--”

“That’s bullshit, Remus! You can tell us anything, you aren’t a burden.” Sirius was frowning at him, concern in his eyes even as he blinked away his tears.

Now it was Remus’s turn to blink. “Wha-- Sirius, this is about you! Oh, and James wanted me to tell you that not all pureblood families are homophobic, just the really twisted ones-- no offense.”

Sirius snorted. “None taken.”

“He said that his family is perfectly alright with homosexuality.”

Sirius’s eyes teared up again. Remus let go of his hands to pull him into a hug, an awkward sideways thing in which the slouched Sirius was clutched to his chest, arms wrapped around Remus’s waist. “You don’t have to tell anyone,” Remus said, chin resting on Sirius’s head and voice vibrating against the boy’s cheek. “Just me and James-- I assume you’ll tell James, although obviously he already suspects it. And Peter, if you want. But the rest of the world has no business knowing, unless you want them to.”

Sirius nodded silently. He felt safe, wrapped in Remus’s arms. Safer than he had felt since he had figured out that he was gay. He had carried it as a secret, let it fray at his belief in his friendships, let it stiffen him at every embrace. It had wormed its way into his thoughts, into every conversation about girls, into the long stretches of silence in the night. 

He straightened, rubbing at his face. He felt the absence of Remus’s arms as soon as they slid away, and he met Remus’s eyes with a sheepish grin, feeling rather as though he’d thrown a fit over nothing at all.

Remus’s brow was still furrowed, though, as if not everything had been resolved. He still had something to say. Sirius waited.

“Sirius,” Remus started. “Does all this--” he gestured at Sirius and the room as though the remnants of their conversation were still floating around them. “Does this have anything to do with your mother’s Cruciatus curse?”

Sirius stiffened, and looked away. Then he shrugged-- he might as well tell Remus this much. “I told them I was gay. In the middle of a row. Didn’t word it very nicely, either.”

Remus made soft noise. “And that’s when she cursed you.”

Sirius nodded his head. “Yeah, among other things. It was the last straw, for both of us.”

Remus sighed. “I wish they weren’t the first people you’d told.”  _ A reaction like that would lead anyone to believe they’re twisted. _

“I know. But I was sc-- I didn’t know how you would take it. Any of you. And, anyway, we weren’t really talking when I figured it out.”

Remus stared, then groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “This summer was really not my best.” 

Sirius patted his back kindly.

Remus sighed and put a hand to Sirius’s knee. “I’m just glad we’ve cleared all these secrets away.”

Sirius nodded as the touch sent shivers cascading through him. “Yeah,” he said.  _ All these secrets. _

He stared at the floor for a while, aware of Remus’s eyes still on him. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, and he was painfully aware that they were alone, just the two of them. He hadn’t felt this awkward around Remus since they had first met, and Remus had been the first person Sirius had known who had the capacity to completely and utterly ignore him. Sirius found himself wishing for that Remus now, the one who would  _ stop looking at him _ .

Remus shifted next to him, and Sirius glanced over to see him rummaging through Sirius’s trunk. Sirius opened his mouth to protest at this sudden breach of his privacy, but the words died in his throat. Remus’s jumper had ridden up as he leant over the foot of Sirius’s bed, exposing the pale, scarred flesh of his back. Sirius had the sudden urge to touch it, to run his fingers up the line of Remus’s spine, to feel the werewolf’s skin under his hands. 

Remus straightened, a look of satisfaction on his face as he brandished his find. Sirius fought to rearrange his features into something less flushed and predatory. “What’s that?”

“Tales of Beedle the Bard!” Remus exclaimed. “I figured you’d still have it in there, you never manage to unpack all the way.”

“Right,” Sirius managed. Actually, the book had been a gift from Remus after Sirius’s original copy had fallen victim to one of James’ earliest pranks, one which involved a very small owl and a great deal of slime. He had kept it with him since, not as a mark of his laziness as Remus had assumed, but because it was the first gift he had ever received from a friend. A true friend-- not one of his cousins or premarital playdates.

Remus’s grin faltered as he mistook Sirius’s inarticulacy as dubiousness. “I-- well, I figured it’s been awhile since I’ve read to you, and Babbity Rabbity was one of your favourites. I mean, I know they’re for kids, but--”

“No-- it’s a good idea. It’s like comfort food, right?” Sirius wondered how Remus always knew what he needed.

Remus crawled past him to lean against the headboard, cracking open the book and casting a soft lumos. He glanced up at Sirius, raising an eyebrow expectantly and holding out an arm. Sirius grinned, having flashbacks to winter nights in second year. He scooted over to Remus and lay on his side against him, pressing his cheek to his friend’s chest in a way that made him feel like they were children again, curled together in a pocket of light and fiction.

Remus cleared his throat, a sound so achingly familiar to Sirius that he felt a bit like crying. And then, the tale began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> An explanation-- I chose to make being gay/coming out a big deal to Sirius, based on what I know about his family and the atmosphere he grew up in. I know some people hate having a Big Deal made of characters being gay, but in this case I think it's warranted.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some brotherly and not-so-brotherly love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry it's a little late-- it's been A Week. I hope you enjoy!

The next morning, Sirius gathered the Marauders, sat them down in a row, and formally announced that he was, in fact, gay as a daffodil. James sprayed toothpaste with his enthusiastic shout of “Good on you!” and Peter followed with a twitchy smile and a vague congratulations. Remus only beamed.

There were hissed slurs as they passed a group of Slytherins on the way to the Great Hall, but Sirius felt bright and shiny new, content in the knowledge that it was not a crime to be gay. His friends knew, and they were still with him. That was all he needed-- and so the homophobic insults slid off him like rain off a charmed hat.

He glided through the next few days, and not once did the ache return to his chest, or the tightness to his shoulders. Not once did his joints seem to lock, or his lungs burn for air. Not once-- until he found himself alone, and cornered.

Sirius had been on his way to collect Remus from Ancient Runes, hoping to cajole him into glancing over his Defence essay. He had rounded a corner, expecting an empty corridor, and walked headlong into a beefy chest.

“Euuuugh look, Avery, I’ve got _fag_ all over my robes.”

Sirius, who had been in the motions of stepping away, stopped and glared.

Avery guffawed. “Quick, Mulchy, get it off you!”

Mulchy, as Mulciber had apparently been dubbed, shoved at Sirius’s shoulders. Sirius held firm and pretended to inspect Mulciber’s robes. “Are you sure it’s not a bit of dandruff, _Mulchy?_ Or perhaps a bogey from your cavernous nose?” He glanced around at his assailants, and noticed with a start that Regulus stood quietly behind the two hulking boys.

“Who are you calling cavernous, shirt-lifter?” A fleck Mulciber’s spittle landed on Sirius’s cheek.

He made a show of wiping it off in disgust, using the front of Mulciber’s robes for good measure. “Eugh-- got a bit of _squib_ on me.” It was well-known that inbreeding had caused a certain lack of magical talent in the most recent batch of Mulciber offspring.

Mulciber roared, shoving Sirius for real this time. He sprawled to the ground, fishing his wand out of his robes as the two Slytherins advanced. “ _Protego!_ ” He deflected one heavy fist, then another. Just as he deflected a third, a flash of pain hit him in the side. A stinging jinx, nothing serious-- but Avery’s spell distracted him, allowing Mulciber to land a kick to his stomach.

Sirius curled around the great throb of pain, unable to cry out for lack of air. Mulciber stepped back as Sirius gawped like a fish at his feet, trying again and again to draw breath. He glanced over to where Regulus still stood, clutching his wand and frowning as though puzzled. Mulciber sneered. “What’re you waiting for, an invitation?”

Regulus assumed a cool expression, remaining nerves only betrayed by the shaking in his wand-hand. “ _Levicorpus_ ,” he intoned, and Sirius felt himself jerked into the air. He hung there for a moment as sparks danced across his fading vision, still unable to breathe.

“Good one, Black! Makes it easier to do _this_ .” Mulciber punctuated his last word with a blow to Sirius’s cheek, delivering enough force to make Sirius’s head snap to the side. Sirius gasped in pain. Then, realizing he could breathe again, he croaked, “ _Stupefy_!” Mulciber collapsed to the ground.

He turned his wand on Avery, but a disgruntled cry cut off his second stunner. “What in the name of Merlin is this?”

In the end, it was thirty points from Slytherin and ten from Gryffindor. Sirius had pleaded self-defence, but Slughorn had shaken his head with a chuckle. “I know you, boy. Antagonistic as your Uncle Rodolphus, albeit only half as mad.” And so Sirius had settled for ten points-- that, and a detention, scheduled for the following Saturday.

***

Remus found Sirius in the Gryffindor common room, talking to James with his feet up in front of the fire. He ran up to them and bent double, bracing his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. “I just came…  from the hospital wing,” he panted. “But Madame Pomfrey... said you’d left.”

James leaned past Sirius to get a look at Remus. “You look shittier than Pads here, Moony! And you didn’t even get beat up!”

Remus glared, lowering himself into a crouch as he continued to pant for breath.

“Hush now, James. Remus is not an athlete, strong of leg and lung like we are.”

Remus opened his mouth to retort, but a very real wave of dizziness came over him and he dropped ungracefully to his butt. The short fall jarred his bones and he winced as his joints protested. The full moon was approaching, and his body was once again spiralling into chilled stiffness.

Sirius watched this in concern. “Y’alright, Moony?”

Remus nodded. “I’m fine, Pads. But what about you? Are you ok?”

Sirius shrugged. “About ok as I can be having lost a fight to a bunch of Slytherins.”

James clapped him on the back. “Spare us the false modesty, Sirius!” He turned to Remus. “Did you hear that he sent Mulciber to the ground?”

“‘Course I have, it’s all over the school! In fact, it seems I was the last to find out.” Remus frowned slightly at that.

Sirius stuck a tongue out. “My apologies, Moony. Next time I am beaten to a pulp, the first thing I shall do is send word to you.”

Remus winced. He looked more carefully at Sirius, eyes touching every part of his face as though assuring himself that the familiar features were still there. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I stayed behind to speak with Professor Babbling after class.”

“Yes, how dare you not come to my aid in a fight you couldn’t see coming in a corridor you didn’t know I’d be in.” Sirius snorted. “Honestly, Moony, if you keep taking on blame for every slight against me you’ll drive yourself into the ground.”

“Yeah, Moony. How could you have known? And anyway, it was me who sent him off alone to look for you. Wanted him off my back on that Defence Essay.”

Sirius perked up at that. “Oh, right!” He dug through his bag and produced a smudged scroll. “Can you look over this for me?”

Remus stared at the scroll. How could Sirius not see that this, like everything that had happened to him this year, was Remus’s fault? If Remus had been in contact with Sirius over the summer, perhaps Sirius would have come out to him instead of his parents. Perhaps Sirius could have left Grimmauld Place with his secrets intact, and the Death Squad wouldn’t have fuel for their attacks. His throat tightened as he thought of what Sirius had gone through, what he had had to bear alone.

“Blimey, mate, I know his essays are terrible but it’s nothing to get worked up about.” James slapped a hand down on Remus’s shoulder, jarring him out of his train of thought.

“What? Oh, sorry. ‘Course I’ll look over it, Pads.” He took Sirius’s proffered scroll, not meeting his friends’ eyes. He’d have to find a way to make it all up to Sirius. He’d have to make everything better.

***

Saturday morning found Sirius sorting through beetle eyes with Regulus while Mulciber and Avery peeled a pile of piliferous pill bugs at a nearby table.

The task was monotonous, the company even more so, and Sirius found his mind wandering to Remus as he worked. Remus, whose fingers had brushed his as he’d accepted Sirius’s scroll. Who had leaned close as he’d pointed out the holes in Sirius’s argument. Who had fallen asleep against him in front of the fireplace, and who had hardly stirred when Sirius had carried him to bed, cool to the touch in anticipation of the moon.

“Pass the next jar.” A voice interrupted his musings, and Sirius glared over at his brother as he picked up the last unsorted jar of beetle eyes.

“Say please,” he sneered, holding it out of Regulus’s reach. He didn’t particularly care whether Regulus said it or not, but after everything his brother had done to him, Sirius felt he deserved to torment the little prat.

Regulus stared steadily at him. Then, with more feeling than was strictly necessary for a jar of beetle eyes, he said, “Please, Sirius.”

Sirius handed the jar over wordlessly.

They worked for another few minutes in silence, hands moving efficiently under the prying eyes of Professor Slughorn. Sirius glanced over at his brother, debating his next move.

“Just say it, whatever it is,” Regulus murmured, keeping his eyes on his task.

Sirius frowned. Then, without quite meaning to, he asked what he’d been wondering for nearly a month now. “Why’d you do it?”

Regulus paused, briefly considering. Then he replied, “Do what?” It wasn’t spoken as a pass at innocence, merely a question of which offence Sirius was referring to.

“Tell them. About me.”

The steady motion of Regulus’s hands slowed almost imperceptibly, although his stoic expression remained unchanged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sirius frowned. “Walburga can’t have applauded your decision.” _A homosexual son, even a disowned one, is a mark on the Black family name._

Regulus inclined his head. “This is true. But, at the time, I felt I had no choice.”

“Did they threaten you?” Sirius’s voice raised just over a whisper, and Regulus darted him a warning glance as Slughorn looked up from his crystallized pineapple.

Sirius turned his attention back to his task, flushing slightly. He kept working for a moment, then whispered, “They did, didn’t they?”

Regulus made no motion to answer. There was no reason for Sirius to know that when the Death Eaters had cornered Regulus at the beginning of the year asking why the elder Black had been disowned, he had refused to tell them until they had threatened to ask Sirius himself. That when they pressed further, asking if Sirius had _turned_ Regulus too, (as though such a thing could happen) he had felt forced to exclaim that Sirius was not his family.

“Well,” Sirius said, taking Regulus’s silence as an answer. He dropped his voice. “If you ever need out-- if you need away from them, you let me know.”

Regulus’s hand spasmed, and a beetle eye was crushed to dust in his grasp. “They are my family,” he said stiffly. “I _can’t_ leave them.” Their gray eyes met, and for a moment Sirius wondered if his brother was talking about himself, or _him_.

***

It was late when Sirius finally returned to the dormitories. James, Peter, and Remus were all asleep in their beds, and he stripped to his pants as quietly as he could, darting to the washrooms for a quick brush of the teeth. When he returned, the room was no longer quiet-- a soft keening sound was issuing from Remus’s bed.

This had happened every so often over the years. A moon would hit Remus particularly hard, and in the nights leading up to the transformation he would be wracked with bad dreams and chills. When this happened, and Sirius was awake for it, he would steal over to Remus’s side and brush his fingers over the werewolf’s forehead until he calmed. He would press Remus’s frozen hands between his own, and pull the blankets up to the boy’s chin. And he would stay by his friend’s side until dawn peered over the horizon-- then he would slink back to his own bed until morning came.

Sirius sighed, resigning himself to only an hour’s sleep. He sank to his knees beside Remus, and reached out a hand to draw the werewolf’s nightmares from his head. But when his fingertips touched skin, Remus’s eyes flashed open, and a cold hand gripped Sirius’s wrist with alarming strength. The amber eyes shone near-yellow in the moonlight, empty of all human cognizance.

“It’s me,” murmured Sirius as Remus’s wide eyes regarded him. “It’s Padfoot. It’s your Padfoot.”

Remus’s eyes focused on him, and he blinked a few times as though clearing something from his vision. “Pads,” he croaked.

“Yeah,” Sirius smiled. “You cold?” Remus was shivering slightly, hand still frigid on Sirius’s skin.

Remus nodded. Then he glanced down at Sirius’s wrist still in his grasp, and let go in surprise. “Oh--” A soft cry issued from his lips. “I’ve bruised you!”

Sirius shrugged. “Didn’t even feel it.” Then he peeled back the covers, shooed a protesting Remus to the far side of the bed, and slid in next to him, sighing contentedly. “C’mere,” he said, gesturing for Remus to come closer. “Let’s get you warm.”

Remus’s mouth twitched, but he obliged. A cool cheek pressed to Sirius’s shoulder, and Remus let out an involuntary sigh as Sirius’s heat chased the aches from his bones.

“Better?” Sirius was grinning. Remus nodded sleepily, and drifted off.

Sirius was as comfortable as he had ever been, but sleep refused to find him. He lay next to Remus, eyes on the canopy of his bed, and mulled over his brother. The boy clearly did not feel safe in his new posse-- hell, he seemed terrified. His stoic exterior gave little away, but Regulus hardly ever volunteered information unless forced to. And what he had said about family-- it sounded like a mantra, something he had been taught to say.

These thoughts went round and round in Sirius’s head for what felt like hours. Occasionally Remus would shift, breaking the cycle of his mind as a cold hand found Sirius’s chest or a sigh ghosted across his skin, and Sirius was grateful for the distraction. Remus had always soothed his sores.

Sometime near morning, Remus wriggled into consciousness. Sirius felt the boy’s eyes on him, and glanced down. “Alright, Moony?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” his friend replied. “You?”

And Sirius didn’t know what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think so far, it always means a lot to hear from you guys.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close encounters, soul searching, and other kinds of searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for all your kudos and comments so far, they mean a lot to me! I hope you enjoy the chapter, it was a bit dithering but so am I.

The moon hung from the sky in a halo of mist, and under it, four shapes tore through the Hogwarts grounds. A wolf, large and golden-eyed; a dog, black of fur; a stag with silver antlers; a rat, small and sleek. They paused only when the wolf froze, shivered, and rent itself bloody in a puddle of bright moonlight. Then the dog nudged the wolf’s long snout almost tenderly, before drawing it out of the moonlight to dash through the trees.

***

When Remus awoke, it was to cloud-diffused light and a great pile of warmth pressing him into the mattress. He glanced down, and found the shaggy black head of a dog resting heavily on his chest, eyes closed and ears twitching.

“Pads,” he groaned. “Pads, you’re crushing me.”

The dog huffed. Remus hid a smile and reached up to scratch its ears.

“C’mon.” Remus shifted, stretching his aching legs as best he could under the weight of the massive canine.

Silver eyes opened, and with a subtle shake of the head, they became the grey eyes of Sirius Black. The pupils were dilated, and very close to Remus’s own.

“Um,” said Remus, glancing down. Sirius was pressed to him from chest to toe, and Remus could feel the shifting of the boy’s muscles under the thin layer of clothes and bedsheets which separated them. 

He lifted his gaze back to Sirius’s eyes, and saw them flicker to his mouth. He flushed, aware of Sirius’s arms braced on either side of him, of how easy it would be for the other boy to lower his mouth to Remus’s.

Then Sirius blinked, and sat up, and moved his leg so that he was no longer straddling Remus. “Sorry, was I hurting you?” Sirius scanned what was visible of Remus’s body for injury.

“Uh, no.” Remus sat up, crossing his legs and attempting to hide what Sirius’s prolonged contact had done to him.

“Careful!” Sirius reached out a hand to steady Remus as he winced. “You really got yourself last night. I healed what I could, but the rest will be up to Madame Pomfrey.” He gestured to a lengthy trio of claw marks which ran up Remus’s right side, from hip to pectoral.

“Shit,” Remus hissed. He traced the wound lightly, echoing the motion the wolf had made the night before. “Well, at least they’re not too deep. Shouldn’t take long to heal.”

“Mr. Lupin?” A voice called from downstairs.

Remus’s gaze snapped back to Sirius, his own panic mirrored in the other boy’s face.

“Out the window.” 

Sirius nodded, scooping up the invisibility cloak. There was a tree not far from the shack, with a branch which extended conveniently toward the windowsill. Sirius forced the rickety window open and straddled the frame, glancing back at Remus.

“Go!” Remus made a shooing motion as he tucked himself back into bed.

Sirius disappeared.

***

They found each other later that morning. It was a Saturday, and Sirius was reclining in the sill of one of the wide, stone-edged windows near the library. Remus had wandered by on the way to do a bit of Runes work, but Sirius had looked so uncharacteristically pensive that he had felt the need to stop and talk to his friend.

“Hey,” Remus said, by way of greeting. “Hiding?”

Sirius shrugged. “James is on one of his Lily rampages. Wouldn’t shut up about that thing she did in charms--”

“With the feather and the--”

“--yeah and the stupid floating sphere of water.”

Remus grinned, settling himself opposite Sirius in his nook . “You’re sounding a little jealous.”

Sirius glared. “I just don’t get it. She’s just a girl! Just a human being! He goes on and on about her like she’s a gift to humanity!”

Remus tilted his head in thought. “Well, she is one of the cleverest witches in our year. Not to mention--” He lifted an eyebrow.

“What?” Sirius demanded.

“Well, she’s rather attractive.” Remus shrugged. “But don’t tell James I said that.”

“What, do you like her?”

Remus laughed. “Nah, not anymore. That ended after I realized I would probably never be as tall as her. And after James proclaimed his undying love, and all that.”

Sirius stared. “But I thought--”

Remus waited.

“You said you were queer.”

“Yeah,  _ queer _ , not gay."

“What’s the difference?” Sirius’s head tilted to the side, a crease forming between his brows.

“Well, I guess ‘queer’ is a word for the whole spectrum of--” he waved his hands abstractly. “I dunno. It’s complicated, and there aren’t many books in the Hogwarts library on sexuality. All I know is that I like girls, and I like guys.”

Sirius frowned. “Are you sure?”

Remus quirked a brow stiffly. “What, am I being too greedy, liking both? Do you think it’s a phase?”

Sirius sensed a trap. “No,” he began cautiously. “No, I just hadn’t realized it was possible.”

Remus relaxed slightly. “Yeah, well.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It is.” He stared blankly out the window, as though the clouded heavens would split and tell him why.

Sirius reached a hand out, tentatively touching Remus’s knee. “I’m sorry.”

“No-- no, I’m sorry. I know you’re new to this sort of thing. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s just another thing about me that’s beyond strange.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Remus smiled, ducking his head. When he looked up, Sirius was far away, and the grin was gone from his face. This had been happening a lot over the past day or two, and Remus thought he knew why.

“Sirius?”

Dark lashes blinked, and Sirius focused on Remus’s worried face. “What’s up?”

“Is something going on with Regulus?”

Sirius stared. How was it that Remus always,  _ always  _ knew what was wrong in his head?

“What is it? Maybe I can help.”

Sirius’s mouth twitched downward. He didn’t like the thought of Remus tangled up in Regulus’s clique. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Sirius. Stop being stoic and let me help you.”

“I’m not-- Remus, it’s not your business. Just-- just leave it, ok?”

Remus bit his lip. He knew Sirius hated asking for help, despite always encouraging Remus to do so. But he thought he knew what was going on, at least to some extent.

This was a job for Remus the Prefect.

***

James had been wandering the corridors for nearly an hour now, followed doggedly by Peter. Sirius had disappeared from the common room mid-conversation, and James had taken it upon himself to find the young Master Black. It was his solemn duty not to let the boy go wandering the halls alone, after all. Not after what had happened with the Death Squad.

He explained all of this to Peter, who nodded eagerly as he expounded that surely they would find Sirius in their  _ next _ favourite hiding spot, or the  _ next.  _ But it was nearly noon, and there was still no sign of their shaggy-headed friend.

“What we need,” proclaimed James, “Is a map which will show us the locations of every person on the Hogwarts grounds.”

As usual, Peter wholeheartedly agreed.

***

Remus Lupin was studying. Or at least, he appeared to be studying-- an illusion he had perfected over the past few years. He moved his eyes back and forth over his text as though absorbed in its content, flipped pages at a pace which suggested studious intensity without haste, and furrowed his brow in concentration at least once a minute. The one thing he didn’t do, though, was  _ read _ .

Instead, he watched the dark-haired boy who studied (probably for real, damn him) three tables away. Thin fingers gripped a glossy black quill, gliding it over the parchment with cool efficiency. Grey eyes darted occasionally to the leather-bound tome which lay open in front of him, both covers cushioned on piles of spare parchment to avoid breaking the spine. Everything about the boy was controlled, careful to the point of rigidity. Remus wondered at how a boy who looked so much like Sirius Black could be so very different.

Regulus sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face and glancing around. Remus quickly turned his attention back to  _ The Encyclopedia of Bat Eyes _ , flushing slightly as he narrowly avoided the young Slytherin’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regulus start to pack up his things.

_ Shit _ . It was now or never.

“Regulus.” The dark haired boy started as he passed Remus’s table.

“Lupin,” he replied curtly. He made to keep walking, but Remus shot out a hand.

“Wait-- sit with me for a moment, will you?”

Regulus stared at Remus for a moment, then glanced around.

“Right,” Remus said. It had been a long shot anyway, convincing the flighty Black to speak to him in the open. “Well, I’ll be heading to the Arithmancy section in about five minutes.” He’d have to rely on curiosity to motivate Regulus to speak to him. After all, they had only spoken a handful of times in their years at Hogwarts.

Regulus gave him an arch look and walked away.

Five minutes later, Remus packed his things and made his way to the dimly lit corner of the library which hid the seldom used Arithmancy texts. He didn’t bother to pretend to peruse the dusty titles, as there was nobody there to question his purpose.

After a moment, Regulus stepped from behind a bookshelf, regarding Remus from a few feet away. 

“What did you want?” It was phrased less as a question and more as a sigh.

Remus smiled, trying to convey a calm confidence that he did not feel. “I wanted to talk to you about your current circle of friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was that!
> 
> Uni is catching up with me so I might be posting less consistently for the next little while. But don't worry, I'm not done with the story!
> 
> On another note, I have a Tumblr... I don't really use it and it looks terrible, but if you guys want to talk to me, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> http://vagueenthusiast.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius gets it all out, while Remus is back to the drawing board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's a little short this week, but I figured a quick chapter was better than no chapter. Hope you enjoy!

James and Peter, who had all but given up their hunt, spotted Sirius as he trudged back to the common room.

“Oi! Pads!” 

Sirius glanced over his shoulder at them. “Oh. Hey Prongs, Wormy.”

“Where’ve you been?”

Sirius scratched the back of his neck. “Just-- chillin?” He slowed his pace so they could catch up.

Peter scrunched up his face. “What, alone?”

Sirius scowled. “I do like a bit of solitude once in a while.”

James snorted. “Give me a break, Black! You’re the definition of clingy.”

Sirius turned on him “I just don’t need you and Peter yammering on about  _ girls  _ and  _ pranks  _ and  _ quidditch _ all the time.”

“Mate,” James put a hand on his shoulder, looking concerned. “Until recently, that’s what you liked to talk about.”

“What do you mean ‘recently?’ Like when I came out?” Sirius’s voice sank to a furious whisper as a gaggle of third-years passed by. “You think suddenly because of that, I’m a different person?”

James held his hands up in a placating gesture. “No-- no, that’s not what I meant. And, it’s been longer than that.”

“Sirius, we just want to know what’s wrong,” Peter offered timidly.

Sirius glared back and forth between them-- James looking bewildered, Peter looking scared. Then he slouched, letting out his anger in a sigh.

“It’s complicated. Everything is complicated, and it’s been that way since the end of last year. What I did--”

“Is in the past.” James cut him off firmly. “Don’t tell me your prank-gone-wrong is still bothering you! Remus has forgiven you, Snape is taken care of, you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

“I  _ know _ that, logically I do… But it’s just always there-- and I’m reminded of it every time I see Moony or Snape or McGonagall or Dumbledore. And-- and every bad thing that happens, it all goes back to that night.”

“How d’you figure that?” James’s brow was scrunched in skepticism.

“I-- it’s complicated.”

“It’s just in your head, Sirius. It’ll be fine.” Peter patted his arm consolingly as they reached the Fat Lady.

“Worrywart,” James intoned. The Fat Lady inclined her head and swung aside, and they clambered into the common room.

Once inside, Peter scarpered off to beg Lily for help with his charms. James stayed back, though, turning to Sirius. “I’ve got time for complicated.”

Sirius looked gratefully his friend. Perhaps getting the turnings of his mind straightened out in words would make him feel better-- that is, if James didn’t lose all respect for him in the process.

“Let’s do this upstairs.”

***

For a long while, Regulus just stared.

Then, after a moment, he laughed. He sounded so much like Sirius in that moment that Remus glanced around, certain his friend had found them out.

“Let me guess,” Regulus droned. “You’ve heard that I’m hanging out with a dark crowd, and you think that by exacting your powers as Prefect, you can pluck me from their midst. You think that they’ll shrink like slugs under salt as soon as you threaten them with ‘10 points from Slytherin’. And you’re going to do it all for my brother. Am I wrong?”

Remus swallowed. He hadn’t been expecting this level of condescension, especially at an offer of help. He had only ever witnessed such a patronizing tone from Sirius, and only when addressing insolent Slytherins and irritating first years.

“No, you are not.” Remus fought to keep his voice cool. He would not impress the Slytherin Black with nerves. “But you forget that my powers as Prefect extend beyond rescinding house points.”

Regulus waited, brow arched.

“I have a direct line to Dumbledore.”

Regulus scoffed. “Please, like Dumbledore doesn’t know what’s going on in Slytherin. If he cared what happened to us, he would have stepped in long ago.”

“Perhaps,” Remus allowed. “Or perhaps he believes in allowing students to make their own decisions and form their own beliefs. He can’t break up your creepy little cult, not while they aren’t harming anyone outright. But if he knows that they’re forcing you to stay, that they’re making you do things--”

“Awful lot of assumptions, there, Lupin. How do you know I’m being forced into anything? How do you know I don’t enjoy being one of them?” But despite his fierce words, the younger Black had gone pale. Remus was suddenly reminded that Regulus was only 15.

“Because Sirius says so, and I trust him.” Remus spoke more softly this time, trying emanate compassion-- something he expected Regulus saw very little of.

Regulus just shook his head. “Well, he’s wrong.” His voice was thick. “I’m one of them. It’s too late.” And he stalked off.

Remus watched him go, gears already turning in his mind. Alright, so his talk with Regulus had not gone as planned. That did not mean Remus would give up-- not while there was still something to be done.

***

“Right, so, you can’t tell Moony any of this.” Sirius sat cross-legged on his bed. James was on the floor in front of him, reclining against Remus’s empty bed.

“Go on, then.”

Sirius took a deep breath, then found he wasn’t sure how to start. How does one explain an ache one has been carrying around for half a year?

“After what happened with Remus,” he started. “After he stopped talking to me, things got a little dark.”   
  
James nodded. He had been witness to the mess Sirius had been at the end of the year.

“At first I thought it was just guilt-- you know, I could’ve really messed things up for him. But the darkness wouldn’t go away, and after poking at it a bit I figured out that it was there because-- because I thought that he would never speak to me again. That I had hurt him so badly he couldn’t bear to look at me.”

Sirius heaved a shaky sigh. “It didn’t go away when I went home. If anything, it got worse. Grew, expanded, spread further with each little jab and criticism from my mother.” Here ‘jab and criticism’ was surrogate for ‘insult and curse’.

“The darkness finally burst through one day during a particularly nasty argument. One minute, I was taking my mother’s abuse, being told that I was disgusting for being anything but Slytherin, for spending my time with those  _ things _ that aren’t purebloods. The next, I was screaming at her that if she thought that was disgusting, how would she feel if I told her I was gay? That I was in love with a queer little half-blood werewolf?”

The room was silent as James stared up at Sirius. But it was spilling out of him now, and it was too late to stop the words from tumbling into the air between them.

“Of course, she had no idea who I was talking about. But it was enough-- enough for both of us. That’s when I showed up at yours, James, and you know the rest.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Only it didn’t end there. Remus was still not talking to me. And then, on the train-- I hurt him again. I caused his first panic attack. I keep causing him trouble, James, with everything I do. And the fact that… that I  _ love  _ him…”

“Doesn’t make anything easier,” James murmured. “It never does.”

Sirius stared glassily at his friend. “Am I horrible, James? I nearly destroyed him, and he keeps saving  _ me _ .”

James stood, and crossed to Sirius’s bed. He sat down beside the teary-eyed boy, and put an arm round his shoulders. “Sirius,” he said. “Anyone capable of a love like that could never be horrible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always I'd love to know what you think, so Kudos and comments are very welcome.
> 
> If you'd like to bear witness to a truly malnourished blog and/or talk to me, my Tumblr is [here](http://vagueenthusiast.tumblr.com/).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has a plan, and James is a tattletale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, sorry it's been a while! It's been a difficult month for me, but I'm hoping to get back in the swing of things soon. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

“No.”

“Why, James? Don’t you want to help Sirius?”

“No, Moony! Absolutely not!”

Remus crossed his arms. “You don’t want to help Sirius.”

“You know that’s not what I--”

“How is this any different from one of your pranks?” Remus huffed.

Remus and James were in the loo. Remus had struggled to get James alone all week, and had stooped to cornering him as he went to take his nightly shower. 

But when Remus had proposed his plan--  his last hope to rescue Regulus from this near-cult he had got himself tangled up in-- James had steadfastly refused.

“Our pranks don’t put us  _ visibly _ in wands-reach of a group of fledgling Death Eaters, for one! And do you really think Sirius would want this?” James was gesticulating wildly, hair protruding in all directions.

“I do.”

James glared.

“You don't think Sirius want the Death Eaters cornered, once and for all?”

James glared.

Remus softened his voice and tried a different tactic. “You don't think Sirius want his brother safe?”

James sighed. “Of course he would.”

Remus spread his arms. “Then what’s stopping us?” He stared at his dark-haired friend. James was never this reluctant to jump in on one of Remus’s schemes.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Remus.”

Remus dropped his arms, raising an incredulous eyebrow at James. “Why?”

James shook his head.

“ _ Why? _ ” Remus asked, more insistent this time.

James was uncharacteristically silent. Then, after a moment, he blew air out of his nose. “Sirius would not want you putting yourself at risk.”

Remus frowned. It was true, the plan did put him in a certain amount of danger, but-- “I’m always at risk.” 

James shook his head seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m saying no, Remus. Just leave it be.”

But Remus was not to be deterred. He could do this, with or without James. True, it would be preferable to have someone watching his back, but at this point he had very little choice but to go it alone. Peter was no good at combat or stealth, so there was point asking him. And Sirius--

Well, Sirius had been avoiding him lately.

Remus felt bad for having snapped at Sirius when he had innocently questioned Remus’s sexuality, and he knew he had pushed too hard in his inquiries about Regulus. But there were times recently when Remus would catch Sirius staring darkly at him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in the other boy’s head. Was Sirius questioning their friendship? 

But Remus shook that thought off. Sirius would never question their bond. Even if he had taken to sitting between James and Peter, rather than beside Remus; even if he glanced away whenever Remus caught his eyes; even if he had not found his way into Remus’s bed for a fortnight-- surely their friendship remained strong.

Granted, Remus had not been  _ in  _ his bed nearly as often for the past week or two. He told the others that the prefects had been told to keep a stricter eye at night, since students (likely the Marauders themselves) were suspected of nighttime wanderings. 

But truthfully, he had taken to nicking James’s invisibility cloak and stealing down to the dungeons. The first two nights he had done it, he had stayed out till well after midnight and had not seen a single student leave the Slytherin common room. But the third night, he did.

A group of about eight snuck out, two at a time, each pair consisting of a younger student arm-in-arm with one capable of casting a disillusionment charm. The third pair had contained Regulus, paired with Snape.

They were difficult to follow, since they were mere outlines of shadow on shadow, but Remus kept on their trail and soon found himself on the threshold of the Trophy Room. Inside, eight forms appeared, clustered around the Awards for Services to the School.

Remus had crept closer, but as soon as he had come just close enough to see the outline of the award they had been staring at by the light of Snape’s wand, they dispersed, summoning test dummies and muttering  _ muffliato _ ’s under their breath. Regulus had nearly trodden on Remus’s foot, and Remus had been forced to back out of the room.

The next day during lunch, he had excused himself to the washroom and found his way back to the Trophy Room. But when he had looked at Tom Riddle’s Award for Services to the School, he had seen nothing out of the ordinary.

It was three nighttime excursions later that he managed to sneak round the perimeter of the room to get a look at the award under Snape’s wand light. Where Riddle’s name and the date were usually etched into the plaque at the base, ornate handwriting shimmered:

“ _ The Dark Lord requests that you practice the Imperius Curse, with the goal of nonverbal proficiency. If there are no volunteers, simply summon a family house elf as subject. _ ”

As soon as the Slytherins dispersed, the letters twisted back into their innocent declaration of Tom Riddle’s Services to the School.

Remus had scampered back to the dormitories as quickly as possible, but found himself unable to sleep that night. The ornate handwriting just kept looping through his head, bearing with it the knowledge that the Slytherins were practicing dark magic in Hogwarts, using each other and house elves as test subjects.

He had to do something-- and so he had formulated a plan. He had nearly asked Lily for help instead of James, but he didn’t think she would understand that they could not simply go to McGonnigal for help. If they did, Regulus would be lumped in with the rest of the Death Eaters-in-training. And if that happened, he would be expelled, and he would end up at Grimmauld Place, or worse-- in the Dark Lord’s company.

Instead, Remus was going to expose Snape and Avery and the lot, whilst making Regulus appear innocent-- or better yet, heroic. He had hoped for James’s support, but since it was clear he wasn’t going to get it, he would have to go it alone.

***

James was torn. The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game was fast approaching, and he needed his Keeper focused, ready, and not distracted by the thought of Remus in danger.

But at the same time, Remus was in danger.

After an hour or two of waffling, James decided to sit Sirius down after Remus left for the evening’s prefectorial duties and tell him what had happened.

“Listen, Prongs, if I hear one more word about keeping my arms up in front of goal--” Sirius was lazing on his bed, James leaning on one of the four sturdy posts that held up the canopy.

“No-- Sirius, this is about Remus.”

Sirius frowned. “I told you I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

James sighed. “Yes, I know that you’ve decided that treating him like a stranger is the best way to stop loving him. But Sirius, I’m worried about him.”

Sirius sat up. “Why?”

“He came to me today, told me he wanted to rescue Regulus from the Death Squad. It was a good plan, actually, and I nearly agreed to it--”

“WHAT?” Sirius roared, rising to his knees as though ready to waddle threateningly across the bed at James, who was making a placating gesture.

“Calm down, Pads! Clearly I didn’t agree to it if I’m here telling you.”

Sirius deflated.

James resumed. “Anyway, when I told him no, he got this fiery look in his eyes. Reminded me of Lily, honestly--”

“Don’t you start with that,” Sirius muttered darkly as James’ eyes went dreamy.

James snapped out of his brief reverie. “Right. Sorry. Where was I?”

“Fiery look,” Sirius growled.

“Ah, yes. He got this fiery look in his eyes, and just… walked away. He’s really determined, Sirius. It’s like third year again, when he got all obsessed over his Defence marks and wouldn’t let it go until we got our marks back.”

Sirius nodded. “I’ll-- I’ll talk to him. Tonight.”

But Sirius waited till past midnight, and no Remus appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As usual, I'd love to hear from you, so Kudos and comments are very welcome.
> 
> I'm also thinking I might start posting fan art on my [Tumblr](http://vagueenthusiast.tumblr.com/) soon, so there's that... And if you guys have any questions or requests for stories, just fire me an ask!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence

Sirius was a worrier. He managed to pass, most of the time, as cool and in-control (well, he thought so, at least);  but in reality, rarely a moment passed without a “what-if” floating across his brain like a cloud across the sun. He knew this about himself, and had learned to quell his fears with logic and slow, careful breaths.

But as he sat on Remus’s bed, and clutched Remus’s pillow, and waited for Remus’s shadow to creep into sight, he knew that no amount of focused breathing would subdue the horrible feeling that had been rising in his chest for the past half hour.

He leapt, suddenly, into action.

“James. James!” He shook his friend awake.

“Wha-- Pads?”

“James, Remus still isn’t back and I think he’s gone off and done it alone!”

“Done-- done what?”

“What do you think?” Sirius’s eyes were wild, and he shook James again as the boy rubbed a hand down his face. “What the fuck do you think, James?”

James shoved Sirius away with a tired arm and reached for his glasses. “You think he’s gone through with his plan.”

“Yes! Yes, it’s half past midnight and he’s still not back. We’ve got to help him, James. If he’s doing what you said he wanted to, then he’s in danger! Merlin--” Sirius ran a shaking hand through his hair. “James, he could already be dead.”

James stood, crossed to his trunk, and began to root around for his invisibility cloak. “I doubt they’d kill him, Sirius.” But his face was grim. He knew the damage these Slytherins could do, even if they were only fledgling Death Eaters.

“Maybe not,” said Sirius. “But they could take his mind.” Merlin, he had never quite realized how much he loved Remus’s mind.

James had reached the bottom of his trunk, and still there was no invisibility cloak to be found. He sighed, then muttered into the space once occupied by the clothes now strewn across the floor, “He took the cloak.”

Ribbons of ice wove through Sirius’s ribs at his words-- this was proof that what he had dreaded was real.

Then James straightened, his back to Sirius, and set his shoulders. Sirius knew that pose-- hands on hips, spine straight, head tilted down in thought. That was James’s marauding posture, the stance he took when there was a plan to forge.

Sirius waited.

“Right.” James strode over to Peter’s bed and threw back the privacy curtains. 

Peter recoiled into his nest of blankets. “Bloody hell, Potter!” He whined.

“Wormtail!” Barked James. “Up you get! I’m sending you to wake Lily. Tell her to go to Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or whoever you come across first, it doesn’t matter. You’re to tell them that Remus--”

“Wait, what’s the matter with Moony?”

“That Remus is in danger, that he’s been attacked, and that they’re in the Trophy Room on the third floor.”

“What?” Peter was blinking very quickly.

“Go, man!”

Peter scrambled out of bed and out the door. 

At last, James turned back to Sirius, meeting his eyes in grave silence. “You ready?”

Sirius didn’t answer, because he was already running.

***

Remus’s plan was simple. He had already left the note pinned to McGonagall’s door for her to find when she returned from her last patrol of the night. The only thing left to do was to sneak into the Trophy Room, place himself in the midst of the Death Eaters, and reveal himself.

He could hold his own for a few moments, especially since he was sure at least a few of the Slytherins would flee at the sight of a prefect. And he knew that Regulus would fight for him. He was Sirius’s brother, and the regret had been plain in his face when he had turned down Remus’s offer of help.

So, with any luck, it would be a pretty even match.

Of course, he hadn’t been prepared for the fact that tonight was initiation night, and that as a result there were three new Death-Eaters-To-Be in the ring of leering faces which now encircled him.

The first flash of light came from behind.

***

Sirius had never realized how far away the trophy room was. He had rarely had reason to visit it before, since having his name inscribed on a plaque and shoved into a dusty room had never really appealed to him. He had been in a few times for polishing duty under the watchful eyes of Filch, but besides that, the room held little interest to him compared to the rest of the castle.

When at last he rounded the final corner, he was panting for breath and bathed in a cold sweat. Red and white and purple light filled the corridor in front of him, accompanied with bangs and shouts and-- and a keening cry of pain. 

Sirius bolted forward, not willing to wait for James to catch up before bursting into the chaos.

Silver trophies littered the floor, some crumpled, others burning, and one melted into a puddle. Someone lay slumped near the door, a pool something viscous and dark spreading around them. Mulciber had been pulled into the air by his leg, and Crabbe lay in a heap, clearly the victim of a well-aimed stunner.

Sirius brushed past Mulciber’s dangling cloak and found himself face-to-face with his brother. But something was wrong-- Regulus’s eyes were bulging, his mouth contorted in pain, and when Sirius’s eyes travelled past his face, he saw why.

Somebody had twisted Regulus’s arm behind his back, hard enough to pop the joints out of socket, and had then petrified him in place. His wand lay at his feet.

And behind Regulus, three Death Eaters circled Remus, who lay crumpled on the ground. They moved as though in slow motion, and in his shocked state Sirius noticed that a muscle was twitching in Remus’s blood-slicked arm. Then Snape pointed his wand at the boy, and Remus’s back arched off the ground. A thin shriek emanated from him, filling the room and breaking Sirius’s momentary trance.

Everything snapped back into real-time. “Expelliarmus!” Sirius roared. He heard footsteps, and suddenly James was at his shoulder.

Stunners and hexes flew back and forth, and the blue domes of shield-charms deflected them. Snape’s black eyes were burning from above his sallow cheeks, and the bursts from his wand were in shapes and shades that Sirius had never seen before. As he deflected a stunner from Goyle, one of Snape’s unknown spells sliced through the air toward him and cut him across the chest. Immediately he felt the flesh there open, felt an invisible blade carve into the bones beneath. He dropped to his knees as great waves of blood left him, and noticed dimly that James had stepped in front of him.

Past the dancing legs of his friend, Sirius’s eyes found Remus. The werewolf’s eyes were half closed, and he was not moving. There were cuts across his face, cuts on his arms and somewhere under his clothing. His jumper was soaked red.

Then his eyes leapt to Sirius’s. Sirius smiled, relieved-- Remus was not dead, Remus was still there, with him, he was still there…

Then distantly, he registered that the room had filled with light and the thundering of a voice too deep to be real, to be human-- and then the voice quieted to something softer in its command of the space.

_ “ _ Dumbledore is here,” he said to Remus, and he thought he might’ve even said it aloud. And then James was dropping to his knees beside him, and Sirius could see nothing but the black of his friend’s robes, and then he could see nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://vagueenthusiast.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus wakes up, then falls asleep, then wakes up again, then falls asleep again, then wakes up. There are two rare Dumbledore spottings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY the semester ate me. It spat me back out though, and here I am! We're getting to the end, guys! Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me, I appreciate you all.

Remus surfaced from something dark and dreamless into stiff cotton sheets and bright sunlight against his closed lids. He opened his eyes, and with the awakening of his sight, his other senses leapt into action. Shouting-- loud, close, and hidden beyond his privacy curtain. 

The taste of something bitter on his tongue, barely obscuring the metallic taste of blood. And then there was pain-- a great deal of it.

Remus was used to waking up with his flesh in tatters, muscles laid bare by his own teeth-- but this was different, deeper even than the full-moon transformations which wrent bone and tooth. The pain went through skin and sinew, deep into the core of him, into wherever it was that his soul lived.

And then he remembered-- this was the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

Memory flooded into him. A ring of wands tipped with the glow of foul magic. Flash after flash of light, cracking his shield charm, deflecting his counter-curses. The black form of Regulus as he stepped into the circle, turning his wand on his own. And the snap as his upper arm broke, frozen into place by Snape’s dark mutter of  _ petrificus totalus _ . Then pain and shouting and whimpering, whimpering which issued unbidden from Remus’s own throat. 

And then, at the last,  _ Sirius _ . Grey eyes dimmed to black as a red pool formed around his sprawled figure. The words on his friend’s lips which, try as he might, Remus could not read. Were they Sirius’s last?

Remus was brought back to himself by the bustling form of Madame Pomfrey. 

“What is it boy? Where does it hurt?”

And then Remus realized he was gasping with sobs. He shook his head-- words were still beyond him. She moved out of sight, and he heard the clinking of bottles as she set to brewing one of her foul elixirs. But she left the privacy curtain open, and he could see who had been shouting. 

Dumbledore sat at the foot of Sirius’s bed, his expression an odd mix of frustration and sorrow. Sirius was sitting up, naked from the waist up except for the white bandages which wrapped his chest. He was breathing hard, cheeks flushed. His eyes had followed Madame Pomfrey as she tended to her potions, but when Remus made to sit up, they flashed back to him.

“Don’t get up,” Sirius said, as he ignored his own advice and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He made to get up.

“That may be unwise, Sirius. I believe our dear Madame Pomfrey called for at least one more day of bedrest.” Dumbledore had put a long-fingered hand on Sirius’s shoulder, but the boy shook it off without a word. Dumbledore watched, concerned, as Sirius stood and made his shaky way to Remus’s bedside.

Remus stared wordlessly at Sirius as he half-fell into an exhausted squat at Remus’s side, appraising him with those bright grey eyes.

“That was stupid.”

Remus nodded.

“Moronic.”

Remus shrugged.

“Asinine.”

Remus grinned.

“Thank you,” said Sirius, and he took Remus’s hand. “Thank you for trying.”

_ For trying?  _ Remus tried to say, but Madame Pomfrey returned with a few choice words for Mr. Black, sending him back to his bed in a hurry before pouring a sleeping draught down Remus’s throat.

When next he awoke, both Sirius and Dumbledore were gone, and there was only the sliver of a moon to keep him company. He watched it for a while as it drifted past the window, and soon it too had left him.

Remus surfaced again in the light of late morning to Madame Pomfrey hovering over him, checking his various appendages for signs of healing. She tutted, muttering something under her breath, then noticed he was awake.

“Mr. Lupin,” she said, with something almost like a smile. “You’ll be wanting breakfast, I’m sure, and I believe you’re fit at last to eat. You healed a lot in your sleep last night.”

Remus nodded, then decided to try at speaking. “Where’s Sirius?” His voice was a rasping whisper, and the air felt rough and cold in his throat.

“I let him go yesterday evening, at his insistence that he was fine. Told the Potter boy to keep a close watch on him. They came by this morning before classes, along with little Pettigrew, but I told them to leave you be while you slept.”

Remus nodded. Then he remembered the shouting he had heard, that first time he had awoken. “What were they arguing about? Professor Dumbledore, I mean. And Sirius.”

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips. “That’s something to bring up with the headmaster, dear.” Then she swept away, humming to herself as she prepared some Essence of Dittany.

Later, just as the house elves appeared to clear the remains of Remus’s breakfast, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. “Ah, Remus, I see that you have been through the wondrous journey of gourmandization since last I saw you.”

Remus nodded awkwardly. He had only spoken to the headmaster a handful of times, to report student misconduct or to sit shamefaced next to James, Sirius, and Peter as they explained their way out of toadstools in soup and Giant Squid clones.

“Poppy tells me that you were asking after the conversation Sirius and I were having when you graced us with a mild panic attack.”

“Er-- yes sir.”

Dumbledore looked around for a seat, spotted the now-cleared tray that Remus had eaten his breakfast off of, and placed it on the ground to act as a stool. When he sat down, his long nose barely reached the railing of Remus’s hospital bed. He peered over it at Remus with sparkling blue eyes.

“Well then, I suppose it would be best to begin at the beginning, wouldn’t it?”

Remus nodded again.

“Early yesterday morning, the lovely Lily Evans halted my midnight stroll to tell me of your heroic and slightly daft attempt to arrest the nefarious activities which were occurring in the Trophy Room. I entered the fray just at the end of the action, and was able to stop the violence with a minimum of damage. Quite a few young Slytherins were expelled that day--”

“But not Regulus, right? I didn’t have a chance to tell you, he tried to save me! That’s why he was frozen, the other Death Eaters had to fight him off to get to me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were kind behind his half-moon spectacles. “I realize that, my boy. I intended to put him on probation, keep him under close watch for the rest of the year. But when I approached Professor Slughorn to discuss the disciplining of young Mr. Black’s, our head of Slytherin was surprised to hear that he had not, indeed, been expelled. It seems he has disappeared-- followed his friends, perhaps, on their post-Hogwarts adventures.”

Remus stared at Dumbledore. The old man was so calm, with only the slightest hint of regret in his voice as he discussed the disappearance of a fifteen year old boy under dark circumstances.

“Regulus is… gone?” Remus’s eyes began to smart, but he forced himself to breathe through it. He wouldn’t cry in front of the headmaster, not again. Even if every midnight venture had been a waste. Even if he had withstood the Cruciatus curse for nothing. Even if he had nearly gotten Sirius killed in his harebrained attempt to save a boy who, at the last, chose not to be saved.

Unless it hadn’t been a choice.

Remus re-focused on the headmaster’s face, which was suddenly immensely sad. “Headmaster, are you sure Regulus wasn’t--”

“Forced to accompany them under threat? No, I am not sure.” Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “I am, however, confident in the team of aurors that have been assigned to his case.”

Remus relaxed slightly at that. But then-- “Are you sure they will try, really  _ try _ , to rescue a Slytherin boy from a known dark family?”

“I am. One of the aurors on the case was a Slytherin here at Hogwarts, and understands as well as you and I do that neither a person’s house nore their heritage define who they will become.”

Remus sat back into his pillows. He felt suddenly very small. His good intentions had nearly cost his life and Sirius’s, and had backfired so dreadfully that the boy he had hoped to save had disappeared. He found solace only in the fact that Sirius was alive, and that capable witches and wizards were now searching for Regulus.

“Can I go now, Headmaster? Back to Gryffindor tower?” As much as he knew he had disappointed his friends, all Remus wanted now was to see them. To see Sirius, to explain and apologize.

Dumbledore peered at him through those half-moon spectacles and stood. “I believe that Madame Pomfrey authorized me to see you off.”

Remus nodded. He took Dumbledore’s proffered arm and came unsteadily to his feet. “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore.”

Blue eyes twinkled, and Remus knew that Dumbledore understood that his thank-you was for more than the arm to lean on.

Together, they began the long stroll back to Gryffindor tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear from you, so don't be afraid to comment or even visit me at my [ Tumblr](http://vagueenthusiast.tumblr.com/)! I've been posting some of my digital art on there (a new thing for me), so if that appeals to you, check it out!


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